


Paradise

by a_dangerous_sociopath



Series: Storm Warning [10]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, Family Secrets, Kidnapping, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, you know the drill by now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:47:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 49,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22184338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_dangerous_sociopath/pseuds/a_dangerous_sociopath
Summary: Being held captive in an icy wilderness for months really gives you time to reflect. On the state of your relationships, your home life, your career, just to name a few. Your friendships, the intimate relationships that give you a glimpse of a future you could have, the promise of something more.After considering these things for eight months, Mark is approaching a place where he's going to have to make a decision. But before he can do any of that, he's going to have to survive the next couple of hours...
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Original Male Character(s), Original Male Characters/Original Female Characters
Series: Storm Warning [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1304717
Comments: 29
Kudos: 12





	1. Prologue- Let 'em Burn

**Author's Note:**

> This took me a long time to start to write, sorry guys. Last month was a lot more packed than I suspected. But I'm working on getting back on track now! I always kind of fear I'm going to lose momentum on this series and quit, so, you know. I just have to keep chugging along. Wish me luck!
> 
> As for this first part of this story, why I've decided to include a prologue for this section, where I've never done that for any of the others? Well, I just sort of felt like I needed to give you guys the background of what's being discussed during this period of time that Mark is missing. Without knowing that Mark, and Virgil, and Carly are discussing these things, we're not going to understand some of the decisions he's going to make in this story, and even later in this series. Trust me, this little prologue is vital for the shift that's about to take place. 
> 
> With that information, I should also warn, that this story is going to have spoilers for the previous parts of this series, if you'd rather catch up on those first, I've gathered them all up in my Storm Warning collection, that this story is a part of. If you don't care, you don't have to read them, but I mean, guys. I've worked so hard on this story, lol. It would mean the world to me.

There was nothing quite like the awkward silence that filled the air right after Mark said something stupid to someone and they stare back at him in slack-jawed awe at the monumental amount of trash that had just come out of his mouth. Except for the awkward silence that happened immediately after Mark had just shared something deeply personal of course. That one kind of stung.

So it kind of hurt when he finished and placed his empty protein drink back on the table and Carly gave him this strange wide eyed look, like he'd said something terribly horrific and she couldn't understand how he was relating all of this like it was perfectly normal. He’d been spending an awful lot of time with Carly lately, as it happened. While Virgil was working on becoming a half-decent vampire, going off on his own hunts and the like, Mark was stuck in the cabin, and occasionally, Carly was there. Like today. And he guessed he had to do something besides fight with her all the time, so when she asked about how he’d met ‘fish-boy’ anyways, he didn’t really feel the need to hide anything from her about it. 

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and sort of awkwardly finished off his story with a mumbled: “...and that’s how we became a thing, me and Milo.”

Carly closed her jaw and, now that she was looking at him properly he realized that look wasn’t simply because he’d said something stupid. It was pity.

She felt  _ sorry  _ for him. That  _ sucked _ .

"Mark…" Carly said, voice soft, like she was trying to treat him delicately right then, which for her was very abnormal. They argued constantly. Hell, he would have preferred if this was another one of those arguments, at least that was familiar territory. She looked so concerned right then and he didn’t know how to deal with that. "Do you even realize what you're saying?"

"What do you mean?" He asked warily.

Carly raised one of her hands up from the table, ran her index finger over her bottom lip, like she was trying to find a way to put this delicately, decided against it, and simply blurted out, "You have Stockholm syndrome." 

Now it was Mark’s turn to look at her in slack-jawed awe. "No I don't-"

"You literally married the man who stalked and raped you." She pointed out, slamming both of her hands back down on the table. The cardboard remains of the protein shake toppled over onto the table. Mark glanced to it for a moment, before focusing back on Carly.

"He's- Milo's different now. He's trying to learn. I don't just let him get away with stuff. It’s just, well his family did that. A lot. Absconded with mortals. He thought it was normal." Mark defended him.

"There’s really no excuse, times change. The morals of one society to another change over the years. Even if the legends and stories romanticized doing that sort of thing, that wouldn’t have been acceptable even 2,000 years ago. He’s old enough to know how this works. Trust me, I’m dating a guy who’s nearing 500. If he can figure this out, Milo has no excuse.” Carly dismissed his defense with ease. “What else does he do?" She asked. "Has he ever… you know, gotten violent with you?" 

"No!" Mark replied right away. Then he remembered that one time, when Mark had been ready to leave him. "Well… okay there was this one time. We'd been arguing over something stupid, and then he…" He trailed off a little, suddenly doubting whether or not this was something he should even share. And Carly was pretty gung-ho about coming down on Milo, but Mark knew him. He wasn’t always like that, she was only getting part of the picture, here. 

Carly’s voice took him out of his thoughts. “Mark.” She said gently. “What happened?”

Mark took a shuddery breath before he continued. "He pinned me to the floor and he…" Mark paused, steeling himself for her reaction, because this would probably be the story that solidified her opinion. "We fucked. But it wasn't- it didn't feel good. He was angry, and I was angry and it just… it wasn’t good." He finished lamely.

"So you mean to tell me, that after stalking you, raping you, repenting, promising to do no such thing ever again… After promising to protect and cherish you, after having a child with you- he fucking went and did it again?" Carly demanded. "When was this?"

"Um…" Mark said, growing more uncomfortable, like maybe he was throwing Milo under the bus here. But then he knew better than to think that Carly would just let it go. Hell, he wouldn’t have let a friend just drop a bombshell like that and then refuse to discuss it. "Maybe three… or four years? I don’t really remember." He said. 

“Unbelievable.” Carly shook her head angrily. "Then that reforming he supposedly did? Complete bullshit."

"Look, I don't know what you want me to say…" Mark trailed off. "He hasn't always been like that. He can be very sweet. Protective. And I mean, when he’s around, he’s a good father to Jenn." That last one wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement, but he knew the man had his own job that he liked to focus on, he couldn’t hold that against him. 

Naturally, Carly wasn’t convinced.

"Okay, so what, because he's only raped you twice, and the rest of the time he's sweet, that makes him a good guy?" She asked. "If I had a boyfriend that was good to me every other day of the week, and only a couple of those days, hauled off and hit me for no reason, does that make him a good boyfriend?" She asked. Then, she answered the question herself. "No, it doesn't." 

“Carly.” Mark replied, stunned by the turn this conversation had taken. “I’m not a victim.” 

Carly opened her mouth again, ready to unleash another argument, but she stopped herself before she could, hand still hovering in the air like she was going to point her finger at him. And instead she just sighed, giving him that sad look again and there was a little bubble of doubt raising up inside of him at the sight of it. When Carly finally spoke again, her tone was much softer. “No one thinks they are.” She told him gently.

Mark felt gutted.

After this Carly got up, tending to a few of the chores left to do in the cabin, allowing Mark the privacy to consider their conversation.


	2. Woman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT OCCURS TO ME that people were not getting what my depiction of vampires are is all about and that's fine, because that's just me being a shitty writer (but we all knew that) but I still feel the need to clarify stuff here
> 
> my take on them was supposed to be that they're like drug addicts. they've been through something traumatic (their deaths) and they're self-medicating. they are eternally desperate to recapture the feeling of what they lost(that loss of their humanity) and no matter what they do, it's never going to be enough. That's why the younger ones attach themselves to particular humans, people that they loved in life. (Virgil holding onto Mark so hard.) It's why they'll try to mix human blood with their various addictions in life in an attempt to get their highs. It's sort of why what Carly does is a little unethical, because it doesn't work. She'll still sell them their vice, because some of those vampires have convinced themselves that it helps them to feel human again, but they all sort of know better. It's why most vampires don't live particularly long, and the ones that do have things sort of on lock.
> 
> The point is, Virgil cannot stop himself from trying to hold onto Mark. That's pure instinct driving that need. Damien can work it out of him, but he knows it'll be hard. Carly is Virgil's Ma Barker. To her, Virgil can do no wrong, and he is baby. She would do anything to make him happy. Even if it meant kidnapping a married man and helping to conceal them. Look, don't judge. Carly's been through some shit. (as we'll see soon *cough*)
> 
> So that's about it, I'm sorry, I think that might have been important to throw into this story somewhere, but it slipped my mind or something... I... you know... I'm not the best writer, lmao. 
> 
> I hope you all can enjoy this chapter :3

_"I can't even tell… is this thing on? Oh… it is!"_

_"Hey… wow, you're all talking a lot and very quickly."_

_"Whelp I can't read anything you guys are saying, so I'm just going to talk to you for- yes, my tits are amazing, thank you."_

_"I have no idea how any of this works so I hope you all can hear me. I'm definitely not a techie. That was Mark. Mark helped me set up my computer, so…"_

_"Oh? Yeah, I guess I should introduce myself here. Hi, my name is Cersa, and I'm Mark's sister-in-law."_

_"No… no he doesn't know I'm using his set up. Not his fault… I mean, not my fault, either. I can explain. This is kind of a last resort thing I'm doing here."_

_"You see, Mark has gone missing… and we need your help."_

~~

_Eight months later..._

  
  


Damien did his solid best to avoid walking alone through Los Angeles. Hell, he did his solid best to avoid Los Angeles altogether. It was a cesspit of rich hipsters and human suffering. The only reason he was there now was because of the Boss. It was always because of the Boss. He was walking down towards that highly pretentious art installation between the La Brea tar pits and the art museum that he couldn’t think of the name of. It hardly mattered, because all he needed to focus on right then was the job. He was trying very hard not to be noticed as he passed by to try and get to the parking structure where he’d paid twenty fucking dollars for the courtesy of parking for two hours while he murdered a politician and stuffed his severed head into a duffel bag for eveidence. Seemed the guy was getting a little uppity, trying to avoid payment for all the power he’d sold his soul for. Well, the Boss didn’t much appreciate that sort of tomfoolery. So Damien had to take time out of his otherwise decent Southern California winter day and hunt down a 80 year old man who’d held his seat in the legislature for far too long. 

Past the throngs of clueless tourists taking selfies with the streetlights and shady looking people who probably would have meant him ill intent if he allowed,and repositioned the duffel bag on his shoulder and ducked into the first row of streetlights. He had nearly made it to the other side when suddenly, his path was blocked by a rather large looking swan. At first, he didn’t even think anything of it, he just swerved into the next row of streetlights and continued. Only for that swan to follow his movement and block his path again.

This time, Damien paused. He realized belatedly that that swan was intentionally blocking his path, and as he stared at it, he realized further: it was moving closer to him, one streetlight at a time.

“What the-.” 

Damien began to walk backwards, trying to feel out another path around him to his car. The swan kept pace with him, moving steadily closer towards him. He had a flash of something, an old memory, and he realized. He ducked down a little, locking eyes with the bird, as he tried out his theory.

“...Zeus?” He tried.

The swan squawked in confirmation and Damien made a face. “Oh, just what I needed. What do you want?” He hissed, glancing around. Sure enough, his little chat with a swan had caught the attention of some tourists, and now the entire group was watching and whispering about him.

The swan made another noise and cocked its head at him. Damien glared at it. “Look, I’m gonna tell you what I told your brother. I don’t _know_ where Mark is. If I did know, I would have him home by now. Don’t you think I’d bring him back? It would be more problems than it’s worth trying to hide him.” Damien tried to keep his voice at a whisper. 

The swan chortled at him and now the ladies in that group were giggling, which was great, just what he needed, witnesses. Damien liked to keep an air of cool mystery about him at all times, something that projected him as being unapproachable, and this swan was seriously destroying him right then, making people think he was a secret Dr. Doolittle.

“You don’t know that Virgil took him. No one knows that.” Damien corrected the swan. “And those connections were severed. I never got a chance to make new, for that I’d need access to both the boys and obviously, I don’t have that.” He said. 

The swan didn’t seem to appreciate that answer much, and it made another angry sound. Damien rolled his eyes. He was getting tired of being sassed by a swan, well aware of the picture he made.

“Well if Virgil did take him then Mark’s probably dead by now, so if you could just hop off my dick already, I’m actually in the middle of something…” 

The swan really didn’t like that. The next thing he knew, an angry, vicious bird was chasing him through the streetlights, followed by the sounds of laughter from the tourist group they were swiftly leaving behind. Damien only just managed to keep a hold of the bag and make a run for it. “Shit shit shit shit…” 

He knew what he probably looked like right then, but he thought he was completely justified, being that the swan was fucking _Zeus in disguise_ , and- was that thunder he could hear, rumbling in the distance?

He ducked around a corner, skidded into an open field, leapt over a bubbling puddle of tar in his attempt to lose the creature, only to turn around and still see the fucking swan waddling after him, at a reasonable pace. He turned into an empty playground, with various statues shaped like giant sloths and mammoths for children to climb on. Damien ducked behind a sloth standing upright, shifted his duffel, and cast a spell. 

Reality twisted around him, and before the bolt could strike him, Damien was safely transported so that he was standing beside his car. He smoothed down his hair, (which was now sticking up all over, that’s just how close he got to being struck by lightning, he supposed,) tossed the duffel into the front seat and climbed in himself. 

He took a couple of slow, deep breaths. Really, there was only one place for him to go after dealing with something as nearly traumatic as that.

He needed a drink.

~~

Damien took the duffel bag with him as he entered the bar, (to ensure it stayed fresh, obviously,) and pushed through the crowd, grabbed his stool at the bar (without even having to trick someone out of it, first,) and took a heavy seat. Fortunately Carly was working the bar that night, and not camped out in her office doing the budget or some other pressing thing. It took a moment for her to notice him, and the pretty girl did a double take. She finally smiled, coming over to where he was sitting. “You notice you have a rip in your jacket?” she asked, shoving playfully at his arm.

Damien blinked, then glanced down to his arm. “Are you serious…” There, bright as day, was a tear in his very expensive, very new jacket. He hadn’t even noticed. Had the swan even got that close to him, or had he brushed against something? “Great.” he murmured. “I just bought this damn thing too…”

“What happened to it?” Carly asked him cheerfully. Almost too cheerfully for his bad mood. She glanced aside for a moment, picking up a glass and began to prepare a drink for him. Without even asking what he wanted, she just already knew. _That_ was a good woman.

“Attacked by a murderous swan.” He offered. Naturally, she burst out laughing.

“Oh, really?” Carly asked, giggling a little. “Honestly? You’re telling me, the all-powerful, centuries old wizard, couldn’t handle a little swan?” 

“Look…” he sighed. “It was a big swan. No ordinary swan.” 

“Uh-huh.” Carly said teasingly. 

“It was Milo’s elder god uncle in disguise.” Damien said pointedly.

Carly paused at that. “What?” She asked, voice a tad more serious. Damien looked to her, a little surprised at the abrupt turn. 

“Why did that catch you up?” he asked. 

Carly frowned a little, finishing up the drink she was working on and placing it in front of Damien. “Well, I don’t like Milo.” She reminded, but from her body language, he had a feeling that there was something a bit more to it. “So hearing that his family is coming after you is concerning to me…” 

“No.” Damien interrupted. “You had kind of a reaction there.” He insisted. 

Carly rolled her eyes a little, shaking her head. “Look.” She said finally. “I really just don’t like Milo.” She said. “He’s an asshole. He’s mean to Griever-”

“I mean, he was right, Griever isn’t a real wolf.” Damien shrugged a little. “It just hurts me to see him hurt. That’s why I keep him off the field sometimes.” 

“Because you’re a decent person, Milo isn’t.” Carly told him firmly, in a tone that indicated her growing irritation with the subject.

“I mean.” Damien said, treading carefully forward. There was just something about her reaction, and he had the feeling that there was more going on than she was letting on. “He’s been a good friend to me. And it’s not like he doesn’t have his own issues.” he said. “His mom was a complete bitch to him, left him with a complex. You know. All that good shit.” he said. “Really, who doesn’t have baggage from their past these days?”

“Great.” Carly said, looking not at all impressed. 

Damien shrugged, figuring that’s as good a signal as any to give it up. He picked up his drink and finally began to sip at it. 

Carly picked up a rag, moving to wipe down a newly empty space beside him. “So what did he want?” She asked.

“Oh… you know.” Damien shrugged. “He wanted what the whole world seems to be looking for these days. Mark.” he said. 

“Ah.” Carly said simply. “And you told him what?”

“That there’s no proof Virgil took him, and if he did then Mark’s probably dead by now.” Damien shrugged a little. 

"Or not." Carly said. "You don't know. Maybe Virgil would take good care of him."

Damien snorted at that. It wasn't that he was trying to be condescending. He was just well aware of the odds. "He's a baby vamp without training. If he's the one that took Mark I have a lot of well-founded doubts about his self control. Vamps have to work at that for a long, long time. That’s why it’s so hard for the young ones. Leaving Mark alone with him would be…" Damien shrugged. "It would be a death sentence. Really. I mean, I like to think I taught Virgil a lot while I had him. But this is… it would be bad, if he took him and he was unsupervised. Baby vamps drain humans way too quickly, and if they do that enough, they get caught." He told her, like she didn’t already know. 

Carly didn't reply, focusing on her job. So Damien continued. 

"In the meantime I've got Milo moping, his kid asking me about her daddy, and elder gods trying to chase me down in broad daylight in the middle of Los Angeles." Damien sighed. "That's not even considering the cops snooping around my place. They keep telling me I'm not a suspect but I know when they're hanging around. Just watching me, like I’m going to slip. You know how hard it is to hide a body when some junior detective trying to get his participation badge is stalking you?"

"You poor baby." Carly cooed at him, and Damien decided to pretend her voice wasn't as sarcastic as he thought it was right then. 

"It's been hard." He continued on. He sighed a little, as he stared at the drink in his hand. "That's why the two of us should get away for a while. Me and you and Griever. Maybe to Catalina, like we talked about." Damien said, catching her eyes. "After I turn in my due from this last job, I could ask the boss for a couple of days… you pack that fancy red swimsuit I made you, and we'll just disappear for a while. Maybe we could go golfing. How does that sound?" 

Carly's eyes widened a bit and for a moment he dared to think that she was on board. That look quickly passed though, and her excitement fizzled before too long. "I can't."

Damien looked to her, surprised. 

"Why not?" He asked.

Carly made a bit of a face, before explaining. "I'm going home for the holidays."

Damien could have spat out his driink, if he had been drinking at that moment. Instead he snorted derisively. "No you're not." He said.

Carly glared at him. "Yes, I am." She told him. 

"Bullshit." He replied indignantly. "Since when do you go home for the holidays? Hell, since when do you go back there at all?"

"Since I bought my plane ticket the other day." Carly said. When she noted Damien's incredulous look, she rolled her eyes. "I need to take care of my family. Come on this isn't such a weird thing to do."

"Yes it is; you hate your family. Your dad is a prick and your sister is an airhead." Damien reminded her. "Last year you spent Christmas with me." 

“You’re being stupid. I’m sorry, normally I would love the opportunity to strip down for you into that fancy bikini and play with you on a beach, but I have to go home. I have to see my family for something. I’ll take a raincheck, though.” She assured him. 

“What, and they have to do it in person, can’t just take a phone call?” He asked. “Are you… hiding something from me? You got another boyfriend back there or something?” Damien asked then. “There’s like literally nothing for you in Michigan otherwise.”

Carly shot him a glare. “My family isn’t nothing, Damien.” She told him pointedly. “And this is important.”

“You hate your dad, and your sister, so I don’t really get why’d ever go back…” Damien said, rolling it over in his mind a little. Suddenly, he had a thought. And this thought made much more sense to him than the idea that she’d ever visit her estranged family. He gasped loudly when he realized. “You’re not visiting your family!” He suddenly said, tone accusatory. He jabbed a finger in her direction. “You fucking know something, don’t you!” 

“Damien, you’re getting creepy.” Carly dismissed, shaking her head. “I don’t know where you’re going with this.”

“Virgil’s in Michigan, isn’t he!” Damien demanded. 

Carly’s eyes went wide for a moment, before she could school herself, and that was all Damien needed to see. 

“You’ve known where he was all this time!” Damien hissed at her. 

“Damien, shut up.” Carly whispered, glancing around the bar, as if afraid someone could hear. Probably a vald fear, but Damien was on a roll and not about to stop now.

“You’ve known this entire time, and you kept it from me.” Damien continued, unable to help feeling a little betrayed at that.. 

“Yes; can you blame me?” Carly demanded. “You still hang out with Milo.” 

“Is Mark there with him?” Damien asked. “Jesus tap-dancing Christ he is, isn’t he? I don’t know how in the fuck you’ve managed to keep him alive with an out of control baby vamp…”

“He’s not out of control, and I’ve been teaching him a lot.” Carly snapped at him. “Or do you forget that I’ve worked amongst vampires for most of my adult life?” She asked. 

Damien thought about that for a moment, and yeah, he supposed if anyone was qualified to train Virgil aside from himself, then yeah it would be Carly. 

"Okay, I will grant that you're probably a decent choice for trainer for Virgil." Damien said. “However, by allowing him to take Mark and go into hiding, being _complicit_ with that, is going to create a hell of a lot of problems...” 

“What was I going to do? Turn him in?” Carly scoffed, shaking her head. “Not a chance. Virgil’s happier with him than he’s ever been. And besides that…” She said, jabbing a finger at Damien. “Milo is abusive to Mark. And he’s beginning to come to terms with that.” 

“Abusive? Milo’s not abusive.” Damien said. “He’s taken over everything for their daughter, I’ve seen it. He’s good with her, if he was abusive to either of them, she’d be afraid of him, and she’s not.” Damien said. “And furthermore, Mark’s never given any indication that he was unhappy with Milo.” 

“Yeah, well, he keeps this shit to himself.” Carly said, as she picked up some of the dirty cups that had gathered on the bar counter and began to wash them. “He never even mentioned it to Virgil. It’s just, I was sitting with him one day andwe were talking, and he told me this story about how he had met Milo, and I had to point it out to him. And he was stunned.” Carly said, scrubbing hard at one of the cups, and Damien got the impression that it wasn’t because the cup necessarily needed it, but rather, she was pissed and needed an outlet. And since she had that cup... “No one ever thinks they’re going to be a victim until it happens. And sure, maybe Milo’s nice 89% of the time. But there’s still 9% of the time where he’s an abusive dickhead, and he just always gets a pass for it. And by the way.” She said, slamming a now excruciatingly clean cup down on a pad to dry. “Emotional abuse is abuse too. It doesn’t have to always be physical.”

“This is the first I’m hearing about any of this.” Damien said with a shrug. 

“Don’t act so surprised. Surely you had to have some indication.” Carly told him, placing a hand on her hip. “You’re not stupid.”

“I mean. I don’t know, he’s an asshole sometimes.” Damien said. “That doesn’t necessarily cross over into abuse. I’m an asshole. But listen, while we’re on the subject of abuse, _Carly_ .” He said her name half-mockingly. “Do you really think it’s okay to keep the man from his daughter?” he asked. “She just turned four. He missed her _birthday_.” Damien said pointedly. “So please explain to me about the morality of keeping him away from his little girl.”

“Simple; if we returned Mark now, he’d run straight back into the arms of his abuser.” Carly said. “Simply because that’s where his daughter is. Whether it’s good for him or not. He would stick around and try to make it work for her. We’re still working on fixing that mindset.” 

“Okay, but if you know that’s what he’d do, then don’t you think it’s wrong to not let him make that choice? Whether you agree with it or not.” Damien said. 

“No.” Carly said again. “It’s an intervention.” 

“Kidnapping someone is not an intervention.” Damien replied, waggling a finger at her.

“Oh please, explain to me the difference.” Carly drolled. “If you threaten to kill yourself, they lock you up for 72 hours to make sure you can’t. Then they bill you for it.” She pointed out. “We’re not even charging him for this, we’re practically humanitarian over here.”

“Mark isn’t suicidal.” 

“No, he’s a victim of abuse. A lot of victims of abuse end up going back to their abuser. And we don’t want that for Mark, do we?” Carly asked. 

“Milo’s- he’s my friend…” Damien protested. “And he’s a dickhead yeah, but I don’t think he’d ever hurt Mark purposely.” 

“Aside from the fact that he’s raped him twice now?” Carly asked.

Damien blinked. “It happened again?” He asked. Yeah, he knew about the first time, but the man’s sister had leaned on him after that. Or so he thought? Come to think of it, he didn’t really ask too many questions about it at the time. Mark seemed to cling to Milo so hard, especially during his coma. He thought maybe the story was exaggerated, or he was missing something. Mark _loved_ Milo, and Milo cared for him.

“Listen.” Carly said quietly. “Virgil and I aren’t hurting Mark. He’s not being forced into anything. We’re just keeping him away from Milo while he heals and Virgil sorts out his baby vamp hormones.” She said. “If you still doubt me, come up and see it for yourself.” Carly said. “My flight leaves tomorrow at 6am. I switch planes in Phoenix, and then I go onto Detroit. I don’t care how you get there, but meet me there, and I’ll take you to the both of them.” She said. 

Damien thought it over for a moment. She wasn’t exactly trying to hide things from him anymore, and she was right. If there was any wrongdoing, he’d be able to judge that for himself. Being able to talk to Mark and get his side of it would be helpful, too. “Alright.” he murmured, now that he was more convinced. “Alright, fine.” 

Carly looked at least satisfied with that. She called over one of the other barmaids. A very tall, dark haired brunette walked over. "We're cutting him off he's had enough." She pointed in Damien's direction. "You got it from here, Amber." 

"Later, sweetie, enjoy your vacation!" The barmaid said in a sing song sort of tone, waving off her boss, as she turned to Damien. "Sorry, honey, you've been cut off, but if you're still looking for something hard, I'm getting off in two hours." She said, before giving Damien a very pointed wink. 

Damien looked the girl over, noting in particular the large adam’s apple on the woman’s neck. "Sorry, babe." He said, getting up off of his stool. "I'll have to take a raincheck on that."

~~

Damien stared at Milo’s front door for ten solid minutes, trying to figure out what to do. Does he knock, or leave? Does he confront the man? Should he tell him what Carly had just told him? What Carly had told him had bothered him. Before he went anywhere, or did anything, or made any kind of judgement call, he had to check on Jenn, and see things for himself.

But before Damien could even raise his hand to knock, the door swung open and Milo was standing there, giving Damien a questioning look. 

“Kasmilos?” Damien asked, somewhat alarmed at the man’s sudden appearance, especially with where his thoughts had been just a few moments before. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, and he couldn’t tell if it was because of Mark being missing still, after all this time, or if he’d been up all night with his kid. Both were very real possibilities.

Milo, for his part, didn’t look all that stunned to see Damien standing there, on his porch. “Yes, Damien?”

“How’d you know I was at the door?” Damien asked first.

Milo rolled his eyes. “It’s really no big mystery. Mark installed a doorbell camera and I’ve been watching you on it, standing there like a dunce, for nearly ten minutes, looking like you couldn’t decide whether you wanted in or out, so I decided to help you with that decision.” He said, jerking his chin towards the interior of the house. “Get in.”   
  


"Right." Damien made his way inside and looked around. A few months ago he'd come over and spent the night on the couch. He and Milo had had a couple of beers and talked about the good old days until Damien crashed and Milo had to go and make breakfast for his daughter. Hell, that wasn't even the first time he'd done it since Milo married Mark. Not once had he ever seen anything that had concerned him with Jenn or Mark. He’d never seen anything that looked like abusive behavior to him. So he was skeptical, but he knew that Carly wouldn't lie to him either. The girl could be brash at times but she was an amazing judge of character. When she noticed a problem well, she wasn't the type to keep her mouth shut about it.

He could just imagine what eight months of Carly seeing a problem would have done to Mark’s ears. 

Milo gave him a strange look, finally dragging him out of his thoughts. "Ah. Damien?" He said, carefully. "Are you okay?" 

"Huh? Fine." Damien said, blinking himself back to the present. 

"You don't seem fine." Milo noted, crossing his arms over his chest as he examined him. “You seem shaken.” 

"Oh, it's been a long day." Damien reasoned. “I had to kill a politician for the boss, then your uncle chased me away from the scene.” 

"Oh." Milo said, seeming nonchalant about that tidbit.. “Which one?” 

“I forget how many batshit relatives you have.” Damien said, when he realized that information wouldn’t be obvious to someone with as huge a family as he had. “I should make you guess, but I don’t have days to spend. It was Zeus.” 

“You’re kidding.” Milo grinned then, like Damien wasn’t relating his near-death experience from earlier in the day. “That old codger rarely leaves the Pantheon these days.”

“Yeah, well.” Damien shrugged. “Seems like his nephew’s raising quite a bit of a ruckus these days.” 

“You don’t know the half of it.” Milo replied, his voice growing low and dark in such a way that it almost changed the atmosphere of the room. Did it just get chilly in there? Damien wondered. That was bizarre. Just as fast as the air struck it eased, as did Milo’s bad mood. For all the good it’s done me.” He added, “Come on, then, dinner's almost ready.”

“I mean…” Damien trailed off, seeming to remember his purpose in visiting. “I can’t really stay but…” 

“Uncle Damien?” 

Damien glanced down in time to see the little girl approach him. Granted it had been a few months since he’d seen her last, but she’d grown a lot. He reasoned that she’d just had a growth spurt. She was much taller, and beginning to lose some of the chunky baby rolls she’d had since infancy in her face and limbs, and her frame was presenting more of that of a skinny young child. He was almost able to picture the beautiful young lady she’d be in the future, and the transformation was remarkable.

Then she did something that reminded him she was still very much an immature little snot like her combined fathers. She grabbed his duffell and tugged it so hard that it actually slid off his shoulder. Damien actually fell forward a step to catch it.

"Oh, Jenny, no no, keep your hands out of my duffel." Damien said, taking a step back and swinging it back onto his shoulder. “No kids allowed.” 

"Why?" She challenged him, her tone familiarly petulant. That alone reminded him that this was absolutely Mark’s kid. She might have Milo’s eyes but she had Mark’s ears and his bratty attitude.

"I keep my bear traps in there." Damien told her, figuring that was a decent enough excuse for four year old. “You want to lose your hand?”

The girl gave him a skeptical look, crossing her skinny arms over her chest and the purple Elsa shirt that made Damien quietly laugh because he just fucking knew Mark would hate it. “I don’t believe you.” She said defiantly. 

“You should.” Damien replied. “It’s my duffel, I should know that I packed 32 beartraps in it.” 

“You’re not strong enough to carry that many bear traps.” She challenged him. Damien’s mouth dropped open, caught somewhere between impressed at the logic this kid was already using, and amazed at how much like her missing father this little smart ass-

"Damien!" His thoughts were snapped out of it by the shrill cry of the desert enchantress.

"I’m dead." He announced just in time to see Cersa coming down the stairs. The woman flashed him a toothy smile at that. As she approached, her purple and teal locks practically bounced in keeping with her step. 

"Why, does your girlfriend still hate my existence?" Cersa asked, placing a hand on Jenny’s shoulder to gently usher the girl towards the dining room. Without needing to be encouraged, the little girl went to join her father.

“She tells me close to daily how she’s gonna make you into sushi if she ever runs into you.” Damien nodded. “That’s a pretty visceral hate she has going.” 

Cersa snorted at that. "I love her." She said. “I can’t wait to meet her. And I mean that honestly. I love me a gothy firecracker.” 

Damien hummed, waiting until Milo and Jenn were mostly out of earshot in the dining area, before he looked to Cersa. "Hey, can I ask you about something?" He said, a bit awkwardly.

Cersa raised an eyebrow at him, cocked her hip to the side and placed her hands on them.. "Damien." She chided a little. "Are you about to tell me that this friendly unannounced visit of yours is not so friendly?" She asked him.

Damien shrugged. "Maybe? I just need to find out, for my own peace of mind." 

Cersa hummed for a moment, before nodding. "Well, I suppose that’s alright." She decided.

"Good." He said. "Now… look." he said. "I know he's your brother and you'd probably take his secrets to the grave…. But I have to know. Have you ever seen him act abusively to Mark or Jenn?"

Cersa's jaw dropped. "What?"

"I know." Damien sighed. "I know how it sounds."

"Why are you- how did you even get the idea…"

"I know… but humor me." Damien said. 

"I have never, ever seen Kaz treat him or Jenn as anything less than royalty." Cersa insisted. "Kaz took over everything when Mark up and vanished, he's done everything possible to take care of that girl." Cersa said. "All while still trying to find him, too. I've been here trying to help him manage because this has all been so hard on him." 

"Okay, that's all well and good." Damien told her. "He's never raised a hand to Jenn?"

"Never." She said. "And Jenn has never shown any fear of him, and he's so gentle with her."

"Okay, because I've heard he's different with Mark." Damien said, after a moment.

"Well, they fight." Cersa admitted. "But a lot of couples do."

"It can get ugly, though." Damien added. 

"Because they're close, and those arguments with those you're closest too, I mean, they both know how to twist the knife." Cersa said.

"I heard that Kasmilos raped Mark after one of those arguments." 

Cersa sighed but, she didn't look surprised either. And that was most telling to Damien.

"You knew." Damien realized. He wasn’t really stunned or surprised by the revelation. Just kind of saddened by it. Because he’d grown fond of Mark over the years, and the idea that he’s had to survive something like that was just sad. Not just that, though. Because Milo was his friend, and he wanted to believe that he was better than that.

"I had a link to Mark for a while." Cersa said. "Yeah, I knew. I’m the one who came here and took care of him after."

Damien felt like he was on uneven ground for a moment. "Carly was right…" he whispered to himself more than to Cersa. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What am I supposed to do, he’s my brother!” Cersa snapped back. “Mark was so good for him, he stopped isolating himself from the family so much, and I mean…” 

“You mean what?” Damien asked.

“Look, not that it’s any of your business, but the two of them chose to work this out together. They have a kid. It wasn’t going to be so easy for the two of them to get divorced, and whatever issues they had, they didn’t want it to affect her. It’s their decision and I wasn’t going to lead them in any which way.” She told him. “Come on, if you knew about how they met, and you weren’t offended by it, why are you now?” she asked.

“I knew about it, sort of, but hearing the story third hand- and the fact that they were still together- I don’t know, I thought maybe it was exaggerated.” He shrugged. “That doesn’t mean it’s a thing I condone. I don’t know, I thought maybe it was just- something else. I never asked and no one offered anything else.” 

“Alright. Okay, but I mean, how do you even know about this?” Cersa asked him then. “Wait a minute. What you whispered under your breath hoping I wouldn’t hear earlier… something about how ‘Carly was right’?” She said, tipping her head to the side as she slowly put things together. “How does Carly know about it?” 

Damien paused when he realized how he’d slipped. “Well I mean, you know, how the rumor mill gets turned?” He tried lamely. 

“There’s no way, the rumor mill doesn’t turn that hard.” Cersa replied, humming a little. “If Carly knows about that, I mean, she probably heard it from Virgil, and Virgil might know about it because of Mark, because Mark told him nearly everything, they were like, friends or…” 

Damien watched as the wheels turned agonizingly slowly for Cersa. “You’re probably overthinking…” He tried to lead her away from this highly problematic thought process, but he was obviously too late. Cersa’s face fell when it finally hit her. 

“She knows where Virgil and Mark are, doesn’t she!” Cersa finally determined, clapping her hands.

Damien felt his stomach hit the floor. “Now, okay, I never said…”

“That means you must know too!” Cersa further determined. She leaned backwards, in order to more efficiently shout at her brother. “Kaz, get in here!” 

“Fucking… fuck you, Cersa, why don’t you ever listen…” Damien began to swear up and down. 

“Hold on, let me get Jenn settled.” Milo called back. 

Damien glanced to the door behind him, then back to Cersa. “I could leave.” He pointed out.

Cersa glared at Damien. “Don’t you dare. I will barricade that door.”

“I don’t need a door-” Damien began to sass her, when Milo appeared behind his sister.

Once the man apparently got Jenn’s dinner together and the girl was eating, Milo came back into the living room, and Damien realized that any chance he might have had to escape was gone. He would have to explain this to Milo, and Cersa was clearly not going to let him jump ship after what she’d just discovered. Milo glanced between Damien and his sister and shot each of them a confused look. “What’s going on.”

“Kaz.” Cersa told him excitedly. “Damien knows where Mark and Virgil are.” 

“You are making an awful lot of assumptions here…” Damien tried.

“What?” Milo asked, his gaze now set on Damien, and his face said that he was accepting no bullshit from the Showman right now. “What is she talking about? Damien?” He demanded. 

“Okay.” Damien sighed, before shooting a glare at Cersa. “I would just like to preface this by saying. I don’t actually know where they are, or if they’re together, even.”

“But Carly knows.” Cersa interjected.

Damien saw the look Milo was giving him, and it was cold. It almost made him nervous. “I don’t know that for sure…” He tried, but Milo was not having it. 

“If Carly knows, then I want to talk to Carly.” Milo demanded. Damien shot him a hard look.

“Trust me, Carly does not want to talk to you.” Damien told him firmly.

“I. Don’t. Care.” Milo practically growled. “I haven’t seen Mark in months- our daughter, hasn’t seen him. She asks me nightly about when he’s coming home and I have nothing to tell her.” he said pointedly. “If she’s helping to hide him then she is complicit in his kidnapping.” 

“Look, you don’t have all the information. _I_ don’t have all the information.” Damien said lowly. “So it would be smart of you to stop throwing around accusations.” he said sharply. “I’m going to get to the bottom of all of this. On my own.” He said, throwing a pointed look at Cersa. “I don’t need help to talk things over with my girlfriend and my apprentice. So just stay here and let me handle this.” 

“Just let me talk to her.” Milo said. “I- I need him.” he said quietly. “If nothing else, think about how despondent you’d be if someone kept you from Carly.” 

That struck more of a chord with Damien. He didn’t know how he’d react if someone took Carly away from him, but it would probably involve a lot of death and destruction, and that realization alone made him realize that Milo and Cersa had no need to be involved in this. Because if there was one thing he wasn’t going to tolerate from the immortal siblings, it was going to be harm coming to his love or his apprentice. “Look… I don’t know the situation or all the details.” he said to Milo. “I’m going to figure things out though. Tonight.” he said.

“I’m going with you, then.” Milo said firmly. 

Damien shook his head. “That isn’t a good idea-”

“Damien, if it involves Mark, I’m going.” Milo said. “That’s the end of it.” He turned then to Cersa. “Can you stay with Jenn?” he asked. 

Cersa nodded. “Yeah, sure. You go do what you need to do.”

“Look, I really can’t have you…” Damien tried, but Milo turned away. 

“Just let me grab some clothes and we can go.” 

Damien glared Cersa, as Milo went to gather what he would need for a trip. “This is why Carly hates you.” Damien said to her.

Cersa hummed airily, as she moved to check on her niece. “She’ll get over it.” She decided. 

While Cersa’s back was turned, Damien whipped up a quick spell. Bright red sparks leapt from his palms, and he sent them careening through the front door. His spell phased through the door and slipped out into the night, doing his silent bidding. 

~~

When Carly arrived in Detroit Metro she had an unexpected visitor. She smiled a little, as she approached, seeing Damien’s large grey wolf Griever waiting for her, with a big red bow tied to his neck. Like that, he almost looked festive. Other passengers gave the wolf odd looks, but no one seemed brave enough to approach him, either. “Here to pick me up, boy?”

She knelt down beside Griever, gleefully scratching behind his ears, rubbing his fur excitedly, and he seemed to return the feeling, thumping his tail loudly against the floor. 

As she was petting him her hand glanced against a piece of paper and she looked to his side, realizing there was a little note attached to the ribbon. Thinking it was a love note, or some other cute thing from Damien she grabbed and unfolded it, keeping one hand on Griever as he headbutted her hip. 

But what was written on the paper made her blood run cold.

_Carly-_

_Kasmilos is coming. Take Virgil and Mark and stay hidden. I will try to stall him._

_-Damien_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *writes markiplier fic*
> 
> *mark's not even in this chapter wtf am I doing*


	3. Beautiful Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long Jesus Christ. I took a math class that didn't leave me with a lot of time for anything else. So I'm very sorry... I hope this chapter helps to make up for it.

_ “Look, I’m just saying, this is the quietest it’s been the past what, five years I’ve known you?”  _

“Shut up.” 

_ “I’m not wrong. You know I’m not wrong. He’s gentle and sweet. The whole undead thing is kind of gross I guess, but who doesn’t come without a ton of baggage?” _

“Get out of my head.” 

_ “I’m not saying the other guy was bad. Just the times when he was a dickweed. And you, you can be kind of a dickweed too.” _

“I never asked for your opinion.” 

_ “Oh, I charge a lot more for that. I’m just saying, the vampire is gone. You’re alone. This is not the first time that’s happened. If you really wanted to leave, you could have done it by now.”  _

“It’s complicated.” 

_ “Is it though?”  _

“I’m done listening to you.” 

Mark pushed open the bathroom door, expecting solitude, and finding Carly staring back at him. She raised an eyebrow in his direction. “Cracking up?” She asked, smirking a bit.

Mark stepped out of the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him.

~~

It was quiet, Virgil noted, before he entered what had passed for his lair for the past few months. Quiet was good. Quiet meant that Mark was probably napping, and that was good, because he really didn't want Mark seeing him like this. 

Virgil did notice the rental car parked in front of the building, but he wasn’t terribly upset about that. There was only one person who knew they were there, (well, there was only one person  _ now _ ) and it was unlikely that it could be anyone else. That seemed to be confirmed when he entered and, well, it wasn’t exactly the sight he was expecting. Mark was lying down on the bed, shirtless, with one arm tucked under his head. Tucked up against him, her head nestled against his shoulder was Carly, laying half-way on top of him. Normally, something like that might have stroked Virgil’s hackles, but it was Carly. Carly was his ex, and someone he’d trust with his life. Virgil didn’t even feel that possessive need crawl up in him, and it kind of tended to, whenever someone else was close to Mark these days. Maybe it was a sign he was getting better at controlling those urges. Maybe. Maybe not.

One thing that did give him pause, was the giant gray wolf, also dozing, at the end of the bed at Mark and Carly’s feet. Griever.  _ Damien’s  _ Griever.

What was Griever doing there? Did that mean his master was aware of where they were? He had to, Virgil realized. Griever was Damien’s familiar. He had a connection to it that couldn’t be broken, unlike the one between Mark and Damien, and Cersa.

But if it wasn’t okay, Carly probably wouldn’t have been so relaxed right about then, either. Ignoring that for now, he moved into the main room. As he did so the gigantic wolf woke and raised up it’s massive head, tail already beginning to thump against the mattress in excitement. Virgil very quietly hushed the wolf, glancing back over to Mark and Carly. Neither of them stirred, which was just as well. Virgil carefully moved past the bed, into the bathroom and began the grueling process of washing off all of the blood.

Virgil had tried to be so careful to keep their location a secret. He kept a careful eye out for anyone who might have been following him, which was hard to do. When all of his instincts were clamoring for him to hyper-focus on Mark, it was difficult for him to do anything but. A young vampire’s mistakes could get him killed, but his experience as a hunter had prepared him for that eventuality better than most. Still, he had to have slipped somewhere. There was no other explanation for how that hunter had found them.

It was  _ everywhere _ . Covering most of his skin, and saturating his clothing and hair. It was dripping off of him onto the tile floor. He was lucky he hadn’t left behind any footprints on the wooden flooring outside the bathroom. Unsure of where to even start, Virgil considered his various options, and finally just turned on the shower and stepped into it, fully clothed. Blood leached from his clothing and ran down into the basin in unending rivulets. He already knew that he was going to have to trash everything he was wearing, he just wasn't sure how he was going to sneak them past Mark and Carly just yet.

When he was done thoroughly scrubbing himself down he stepped out of the shower. He shoved all of his ruined clothes into the trash can and tied up the bag inside. It wasn’t that Mark was particularly squeamish, he was a parent, after all. It was more that Virgil didn’t want the man to see him like that. It just wasn’t him. Not that he’d felt like himself the entirety of his time as a vampire. Something had certainly changed in him, and that he wasn’t entirely sure he was all that comfortable with, yet. With the clothes taken care of, he wrapped a fluffy white towel around his waist and stepped out to find clean clothes.

Of course, by this time Mark was awake and sitting up, with Carly now curled up on her side next to him, lightly dozing.

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him, and Mark shrugged. 

"Don't ask me, man." Mark said, scratching at the back of his head, drawing a chuckle out of Virgil. 

"She must have been in a mood." Virgil filled in for himself, as he made his way over to a small cabinet, and tugged out a pair of unders and leather pants.

"Yeah, you say that in front of her and she’ll knock you out. But yes." Mark said, as he stood and lazily stretched out his spine, looking about the cabin for something. He finally found his shirt tossed kind of haphazardly in a corner. "She did this."

"I guessed that much. What did you do?" Virgil asked, as he slid on his clothes.

"I don't know. She came here looking for you. We had maybe fifteen minutes of civil discourse before we started bickering; she told me everyone from Ohio sucks, I said no, the Lions suck, and she tugged off my shirt, pushed me to the bed and... fell asleep on me." Mark explained, as he pulled his shirt back on. 

Virgil hummed a little in bemusement. "Maybe she's just jet lagged." Virgil suggested. 

"Or stressed. Or something. But nevermind that, I can't believe you're being so chill about this." Mark noted. "You're so possessive I haven't seen another living human outside of you and Carly for months." He noted.

"Carly's different." Virgil insisted. "She has someone. And besides that, we're close. She’s saved my life more times than I can count." It hadn’t exactly worked out for him that he’d ever saved her life, but Carly was a lot more careful than he was, so he just supposed that stood to reason. 

"It's still weird." Mark noted. Without much else to do, he grabbed a chair and had a seat at the table. The remains of an old, semi-complicated board game was still set up there, and yes, Virgil knew that Mark had been playing it alone. It wasn't like there was much else to do out there. Virgil had brought Mark various things to keep him occupied during his frequent but necessary trips outside of the lair. He’d brought Mark books and puzzles and the like, but it was the board games Carly brought that he seemed to be most attached to. This one in particular she had found on her way to the cabin from an old antique store. He'd been occupying himself figuring out how it worked, since there were no instructions included, and (obviously) no way for him to look them up. 

"Maybe." Virgil relented, as he sat down across from Mark at the table. Now that he was home with Mark, he could forget his encounter with the hunter earlier. He could focus on the man in front of him and let the leftover stress from his issues drain away in his presence. Already, just being here with him, he felt a lot better. "You got the game figured out?" He asked curiously.

"I mean, it’s not that complicated." Mark said, as he picked up a stack of character cards. He mindlessly shuffled them for a moment, before handing them to Virgil. "Pick one." He instructed.

Virgil took the cards and carefully examined the early 90s artwork. Compared to what passed for such these days, some of the portraiture was very pretty. He settled on the character of the maid, and handed his selection back to Mark.

"Her." He said. "She sort of looks like Lucille Ball." He pointed out to Mark. That character desgin tickled his interest in vintage television and movies, and Mark would understand that.

"She does." Mark granted, inclining his head slightly. He took the card that Virgil handed him and slid it into a stylized frame on the gameboard, offering no explanation as he did so. Then he picked up the maid’s corresponding pawn and placed her in front of the game's miniature fireplace. As Virgil watched he gradually began to realize the gravity of the danger Mark was about to put his character in. 

"Now wait a minute…" Virgil began to protest.

"Tell me where you've been, or your maid meets a fiery end." Mark said, his hand settling over a lever that threatened to send his pawn careening into the fireplace. 

"Mark! She doesn't deserve that!" Virgil said, alarmed for a brief moment, before he realized he was about to try and negotiate for the safety of a game board piece. But Mark was into it, toying his fingertips ever so gently over the lever with a deliciously wicked smirk on his face. "What do you want?" Virgil finally asked, playing along.

"Virgil. You left me this morning, in the cabin. All alone. For hours." Mark reminded him sternly. "And yes, Carly’s usually around a lot, but when she isn't here, you're all I have. So I don't appreciate you leaving me without notice." He said.

Virgil's face softened a little at that. Mark was right. And while Virgil knew where they were, Mark had no idea. Being suddenly alone in this place was probably terrifying, and Virgil knew better than to just leave him, but at the time, he’d been in a hurry. Stupid mistake on his part, he supposed. What if something had happened to him, and Mark was left wondering? 

Well. He actually knew  _ exactly  _ what would happen then.

"Oh Mark…" he said softly. But the man quickly shook his head.

"No no." Mark snapped at him, jabbing a finger in Virgil's direction. "I am  _ angry _ . Don't even  _ try  _ and attempt to escape your fate with those sad, puppy dog eyes." 

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything." Virgil told him. "I left because a hunter tracked us down, and I needed to do something about him." he explained. “It didn’t leave me with a lot of time for explanations. I just got dressed and left.”

Mark gave him a startled look, sitting up a bit straighter in his seat.

“What happened?” He asked, voice quiet, like someone could overhear. Not that, there was anyone there at that moment, Virgil knew for a fact that he wasn’t followed, and Carly was obviously still asleep.

“It turned into an all day affair.” Virgil admitted. He hadn’t planned on telling Mark any of this, fearing it would upset him. It was typically his choice to protect the man from hearing things like this. But of course, Mark had every right to know and since he was obviously upset by his disappearance that morning, Virgil understood an explanation was owed. “I tried to talk to him, get him to leave us alone but he just wasn’t having it. It was like…” He took a deep, steady breath, because he hated to make this comparison, about anyone, but he felt like he had to. “He reminded me of my father.” he admitted.

Mark sank back in his chair, looking him over. Studying him. Virgil went quiet, allowing the silence to fill in the rest of the story. Of course, Mark understood what that meant. In the quiet evenings they’d shared, nights when there was little else to do, the both of them ended up simply talking. About their shared experiences, their interests, and of course, their families. There was a reason that Virgil didn’t speak to his family anymore, even before he was turned. 

“Oh Virg…”    
  


Mark scooted his chair around the table, leaving his trap forgotten and moving in close to Virgil, gently sliding an arm around the man’s shoulder and tugging him in. “It’s gonna be okay.” Mark said softly, trying to reassure him. 

“I didn’t want to hurt him…” Virgil whispered.

“I know. You’re a good man, Virg.” Mark said. “And when it comes down to it, I’d rather you do what you have to to come home. And, maybe the next time… just, let me know before you go. Take a few seconds, I’d rather know.” he said. Virgil nodded in quiet agreement. He was right of course. The feeling of having taken the life of a human was a terrible one, one that would stay with him, give him nightmares. But so long as he had Mark to return to, he could live with it. He picked his head up a little, and drew a smile out of the other man. “You know how I would kill you if you went out there, and died, and left me here in this cabin with a barely functioning heater, alone?” Mark said pointedly, and Virgil couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. 

“You do seem to be a big fan of cuddling.” Virgil teased him a little.

“Okay, see that is where you’re wrong, I’m not a fan of it, I’m just trying to survive.” Mark corrected him, making a bit of a face. “You know, you huddle together for warmth.” 

“And cuddle… nakedly.” Virgil continued to tease.

“No, my coach, he said. He told us, me and my wrestling team.” Mark continued. “He said the naked part is a requirement. He said if we ever ended up in a survival situation, the clothing just gets in the way. He said we all have to get naked, the girls huddle in one group and the boys huddle in another group. Clothing blocks the heat we’re generating.” 

“Your coach. To a group of… however olds you were.” Virgil asked.

“Middle school.” Mark said.

“Yes, that’s an appropriate conversation to have with middle schoolers.” Virgil played up his obvious disbelief.

“No, it wasn’t like- look, one of the guys asked, he was just answering the question. And that is good advice, honestly…” 

“He might have just been saying that.”

“Oh, whatever, you’re not so smart.” Mark said to the teasing. “Is the cabin at least safe now?” He asked, changing the subject. 

“Define ‘safe.’” 

Both Mark and Virgil turned, just in time to see Carly sitting up in the bed, resting with her knees tucked under her. She was stretching out leisurely, popping the kinks in her spine as she tried to sort her hair back into place after the intense nap. Once the flyaways of her dark hair were more or less in place, turned just enough to catch their questioning gazes. 

Virgil gave her a smile. “Hey Carly. Glad to see you. As always.” He said cheerfully. “Why wouldn’t we be safe?” He ventured to ask. 

“Well.” She said, glancing between him and Mark. She looked Mark over carefully, glancing to Virgil, and then looking back to Mark. Virgil very quickly realized that something was coming up that she strictly didn’t want Mark knowing about. And the longer it took Virgil to realize that, the quicker on the uptake that Mark was in translating Carly’s unspoken concern.

“Let’s take Griever on a walk.” Virgil tried, looking to Carly. “And you and I can talk.” 

“Now, wait a minute.” Mark immediately protested. He took a step forward, physically placing himself between Carly and Virgil, placing a hand on Virgil’s chest. "Are you  _ really  _ about to leave me alone here, in this space, after the conversation we  _ just  _ had?" He demanded.

Virgil paused, his gaze skirting back and forth, between Carly and Mark and back again. Carly must have seen how torn he was and she sighed, loudly. 

“This is really important though. Virg, come on.” She tried to implore him. She slid off of the bed and stood up. 

Virgil bit his bottom lip. He slowly turned to look back to Mark. “It wouldn’t take that long, if we’re just talking.” 

“Look,” Mark paused, glancing back to Carly. “Shut up, you  _ cheater _ , just because you’re taller in heels doesn’t mean you get to run  _ this  _ conversation.” He noted. Well, that sort of answered the question about just what the argument earlier was about, Virgil thought to himself. Carly smirked a little as Mark’s head whipped back around and he gripped Virgil’s shirt in his fist. “That’s not the part that bothers me.” Mark said, moving closer to the man. “I mean yeah, it bothers me that you’re wanting to leave me alone again, after leaving me alone all damn day, but now it feels like you’re both trying to hide something from me.”

“For your own good.” Carly interrupted Mark. 

Mark made a face, not even trying to hide the obvious offense he took at that.

“I- am an adult.” Mark told the both of them, firmly. “And despite what you seem to think, fully capable of making my own determinations about these things.”

“Mark, you have an entire, ‘open to the public where millions of people can see’ channel dedicated to you making poor decisions. You may be an adult, but you’re not an ‘adult.’” Carly pointed out to him, drily. 

Mark stammered for a moment. “Okay but… that’s for content. That’s different. Outside of that, I feed and clothe myself and do the same for my kid, while providing a roof over our heads. I have a mortgage.” He said, blinking for a second, as reality caught up with him in a blinding flash. “I had a mortgage. And While I can’t claim to know the state of my credentials because of my unplanned absence...” He said, giving a pointed look to both Carly and Virgil, “In real life I’m fully capable and I- I- Look, I don’t think you understand how isolating it’s been. I’m here for Virgil, but I can’t very well leave. I missed my daughter’s birthday. I’ve missed every milestone she’s had for the past eight months.” He said firmly. “At the very least, I deserve to know what the hell is going on.”

Carly and Virgil looked to each other once more, but Carly looked, well, softer. Like she kind of felt sorry for Mark, and all that he’d gone through.

“Mark…” She said his name softly. Mark stiffened right at first, but, there was something different there about Carly’s tone, and he was quick to relax. She moved forward, closing the space between herself and Mark, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. The moment was surprisingly sweet, and for a moment, Virgil dared to hope that they would come to an uneasy truce. It was a hope quickly dashed, when without warning, Carly pulled something out of her back pocket that he couldn’t quite see, until she brought it to her lips and blew the gray, powdery substance right into Mark’s face.

Mark’s eyes widened momentarily in surprise, his whole body going tense, before it quickly fell lax. His body crumpled, and he would have hit the floor if Carly hadn’t quickly grabbed him under the shoulders and held him up. It all happened so fast, Virgil didn’t even have a chance to say something or protest. Carly grunted trying to keep the man from hitting the floor, finally glaring at Virgil. Spurned into action, Virgil snapped out of his momentary trance and moved in to help her. 

“I… I don’t think that was necessary…” Virgil said, as he took one of Mark’s arms, sliding it over his shoulder. Carly took Mark’s other side and they maneuvered him together back towards the bed. “Is that going to hurt him?”

“He’ll be fine.” She said, absently patting the pocket she’d whipped out whatever it was to knock Mark out. “Simple trickster spell Damien taught me.. Mark will wake up in about ten minutes. Long enough for us to cut and run...” 

"Carly, I don't want to just leave him." Virgil protested. “Why couldn’t even listen anyways? He is absolutely right, he’s a part of this, he deserves to know.” 

"He'll be fine, like I said.” Carly dismissed his concern. “We're the ones who need to be worried right now."

“Why?” Virgil asked. “What on earth could be going on that-” 

“Virgil, Milo is coming.” Carly told him pointedly.

Virgil was instantly shut down, as he looked to her, stunned. “What…?” His entire demeanor changed. From his otherwise relaxed stance he was suddenly much darker, colder, angrier.

“Milo, knows we are here, and is on his way.” Carly spelled out for him again, slowly, like he needed to understand.

“How does he know, though?” Virgil asked. “I thought I was so careful picking out this place, he shouldn’t know where we are.” 

“Yeah, well you can thank Damien for that.” Carly said, as wiped her hand off on the skin-tight leggings she was wearing. “Not…” She paused, seeing the stricken and betrayed look on Virgil’s face. “Not that he meant to. I don’t think that at all. He’s just an idiot. You know how he is.” 

Carly turned and whistled at Griever, watching as the big wolf moved from his spot at the end of the bed and began to follow her as she made for the door. “Big dumb idiot can’t keep his mouth shut- still can’t figure out why he’d go to Milo after everything I told him…”

“Because they’re friends.” Virgil said with a half-shrug. “I get it. They had each other’s backs long before I was around."

“Yeah, well, Damien’s questionable loyalties are about to leave him single.” Carly said. “Come on. We have to find somewhere else to hide.” 

“I have a place.” Virgil said. “It’s… just not ready yet…” 

“Well, let’s get it ready.” Carly said. “Damien made no mention of how Milo’s getting out here. He said he would stall, but I have no idea how. Basically, we have no time to dawdle.”

Virgil hesitated, looking back to Mark. “I don’t want to leave Mark.” He protested. “What if something happens? We were found this morning…” 

“Found?” Carly asked, looking concerned. 

Virgil nodded solemnly. “Some hunter showed up. I… I had to put him down.” Virgil told her. 

Carly chewed her lip for a moment, seeming to ponder this information. “That’s not good.” She finally said. “I’m not sure what that means, yet, unless we can find out who sent him.” 

“I didn’t find anything indicating who that could have been.” Virgil told her. “I searched him.” 

“All the more reason for us to hurry, I suppose. If we’re quick, Mark won’t hardly miss us.” She said. “Come on, you know he can’t help us like this.” 

Virgil still seemed hesitant for a moment longer, his gaze lingering over Mark’s still form, until finally, Carly took his wrist and tugged, snapping him out of it.

“He’ll be fine, Virg” Carly insisted. “Let’s go.”

~~

Mark was beginning to get a little tired of the magic tricks. Actually, that was an understatement. He was very much over them. And frankly, he deserved better. He wasn’t in a cabin in the middle of the woods where it did nothing but snow because he wanted to be there. He’d been taken there. He’d been  _ kidnapped _ . And yeah, it was his friend doing the kidnapping, and sure, he could have probably just left by now, and yes, Virgil didn’t have a mean bone in his body, vampire or no; but it was still frustrating being treated like this. If he was going to be here, separated from his family while Virgil got his shit together, then the least they could do was clue him in on the potential emergencies. 

He slowly pushed himself up out of the bed, struggling a little when his leg caught the edge of the blanket, and accidentally knocked the moose pillow that Carly gave them to ‘spruce things up’ onto the floor in the process. 

“Oh… Marty.” Mark gently scolded the creature. He moved to pick it up, setting the gaudily red and black plaid creature beside him. “Careful. You know how Jenn would scold me if I did that to any of her toys? If we ever get out of here, you gotta meet my kid.” He said, humming a little. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen her.” He said, smiling a little. “She was in the middle of this disney princess phase when I left, talking to the animals and such. Lizards, birds, cats, dogs. I bet she could speak moose too. You’ll love her.”

Of course, talking about his little girl didn’t help him any. In fact, it left him with this feeling of melancholy. He missed her terribly. He hadn’t been able to talk to her, or see her, in months. He wondered if she was still hitting all of her milestones; she’d been so little when he was taken. He’d been very worried about how small she still was, when he left. He wondered if she’d started learning to read and write, yet. Before he left, she had begun to figure out numbers. Well, she had figured out that seven was bigger than three, and had been telling everyone that she was seven instead of her actual age of three. It was something he was just getting around to addressing, actually. 

It  _ ached  _ that he had been missing all of these milestones.

And knowing that she’d just had her birthday without him…

With a sigh, he pushed himself up from the bed. He knew it was getting bad when he started talking to stuffed animals. Fuck he missed his family. Jenn and Chica, Milo. Goddamn he missed Milo. Yeah, they fought a lot. Yeah, there were times when Mark felt neglected. Yeah, Carly had actually given him a lot to think about regarding that relationship. But they’d been hacking away at this whole relationship thing for so long now, there was a part of him that wanted, desperately, to make it work. Like if he worked at it maybe he could change-

Okay, now he was beginning to really get why Carly said what she did. He even sounded like an abused housewife to his own ears. Common sense told him that after the near five years they’d been together, if the man hadn’t significantly changed in that amount of time, that he never would. But he still sort of felt like he hadn’t done enough to try and fix his relationship.

But then, how did one go about quantifying something like that anyways?

Well, even if Mark did manage to return home, filled with renewed fervor to save his marriage, he figured that Milo might not all that happy to see him, considering the copious amounts of sex he'd been having with Virgil. Which he enjoyed. Virgil was handsome, strong and kind. Gentle. But… he loved his husband. And milo was probably so worried about him. 

But then, Carly had made some very good points about that relationship too, and he supposed some of that insight came from her being outside the relationship. When you're looking at things as an outsider, he supposed that tended to give you a clearer perspective. 

But what could he do? Hell, he wasn’t even sure what he wanted to do. Did he want to try and fix things with Milo? Could he, after trying for all this time? Or, did he give into temptation and let himself be lured into the arms of the gentle vampire?

Why did this sound like the beginning of a bad teen-oriented vampire erotica?

He glanced about the small cabin, wondering what in the hell he was going to do until Virgil and Carly came home. He’d read every book they’d brought him. He’d played through every game they’d retrieved for him to proficiency. He made a halfhearted start towards the table, and the game he'd been playing unforgivably alone for the past day or so, and came to an abrupt stop when the cabin’s door suddenly swung open.

The man standing in front of him was not one he recognized. 

He was tall, dark hair showing the signs of his age, his figure thin but betraying an underlying strength. His well-kept beard had flecks of grey throughout. His leather jacket looked like it was covered in an inch of snow, like he'd trekked miles just to come and stand in front of Mark. Small flurries of snow circled his booted ankles and settled on the cabin's floor.

He looked Mark over with an unreadable expression, like Mark wasn't the one out of place there. 

The man raised a finger to his own lips, trying to keep him quiet.

Mark screamed.

Not that this would be his typical reaction to this situation, but there was something about a stranger trying to hush him like a child that made him a little indignant. This was the first person he’d seen beside Virgil and Carly for months. He resolutely, positively did not trust anyone who could find this place when no one else could, for months. 

The man reacted immediately, quickly moving towards him, a hand outstretched to grab him, and Mark’s own imagination could supply what would be next if he didn’t react quickly. He dashed to the side, grabbing the table and throwing in the man's direction, sending the game and its contents flying, like plastic sharpnel towards the stranger. It wasn’t nearly as effective as he hoped, the man was fast enough to catch the table and set it back down; but it gave Mark an opening. He glanced around the tiny cabin, and found one of Virgil's knives resting on the counter.

The man saw what Mark was looking at, his eyes widening. "Don't." he warned Mark. 

Mark didn't listen. He rushed to grab the knife. But just when he had brushed his fingers over the handle, the man was on him, grabbing him by the wrist and tugging him back. Mark grunted, in desperation surging forward and stretching out, just barely able to pull the knife into his palm. With it safely in hand he tried to twist himself around and out of the man's grasp so that he could plunge the knife into him, but the stranger was faster; he quickly wrapped an arm around his throat, bracing him in such a manner that he was able to, with his free hand, twist the knife out of Mark's hand. It clattered uselessly to the floor.

"No!" Mark shouted, struggling to escape the man's hold. He placed his hands against the arm around his neck, trying in vain to push him away but he was just too strong. He didn’t even notice how the man wasn't actively strangling him, in his panic to escape. He was just restraining him. “Virgil! Carly!”

He let him struggle for a bit longer, allowing Mark to tire himself out, before the man finally sighed. "Calm down." He said firmly. "I know you're scared, but I'm not here to hurt you."

Mark paused at that, mostly because he felt exhausted now. He took and released a deep, steady breath. “Okay. Let go of me then.” He challenged the stranger.

"I want to make sure you're going to be calm before  _ I  _ let  _ you  _ go. Lest we forget you just tried to pull a knife on me." The man said, and Mark was sure that the brief tightening of the man's arm around his neck was meant to illustrate what could happen if he didn't. 

“Okay…” Mark said. “First of all, you broke into  _ our  _ house. If you weren’t ready to be stabbed in the face for it that’s hardly my problem.”

“Cute.” 

Once he was assured that Mark wouldn’t try anything, the man released him. Mark took a step forward and turned just in time to see the man crouch down and pick up the discarded knife. That didn't make Mark feel entirely comfortable, but the man made no threatening overtures with it. He tucked the knife safely into a hidden pocket, and pointed to one of the chairs, still sitting by where the table used to be.

"Have a seat." He said firmly. Mark had little choice but to obey.

~~

Mark and Nic weren’t having the most thrilling of conversations while they waited for Carly and Virgil to return. The other man seemed to be the strong, silent type, and didn't offer up much of anything when he had nothing to say. It took some prompting from Mark to get the man to talk, and when he did, he didn’t seem to have much to say. That was a problem, considering that a) he was armed, and b), he was forcing Mark to sit next to him quietly. That wasn’t exactly something Mark was good at under normal circumstances.

“Come on.” Mark said, trying for the third time, to get the man to say something to him about anything. “Just tell me your name.” 

The man gave him a hard look, and Mark was certain that he was about to be shut down again. But apparently, Mark had worn him down sufficiently, because finally he got an answer. "Nic." He said. "Nicolas Warren. But if you call me that I'll knock you out. Just Nic. Thanks."

"Warren." Mark repeated. "Does that mean you're related to Virgil?"

"I'm his uncle." 

Now that was a revelation. Mark was still pretty sure that wasn't a good thing, though. After all, there was a reason Virgil wasn't on speaking terms with his family, and the man seemed to notice his confusion. 

"I was sort of cut off from the family like he was. Well, my exile was more by choice,Ii guess." Nic explained. "I wasn't allowed to see my dad, nephews. It's probably been…" Nic hummed to himself, as he thought it over. “25 years or so. Virgil was young… probably wouldn't remember any of that drama." 

"Virgil was kicked out because he didn't want to be a vampire hunter." Mark said, which was the extent of what he knew of the situation, and that dragged a snort out of Nic. 

"Why am I not surprised?" Nic said, looking amused and well, tired, Mark supposed. "I joined the force. Which, isn’t exactly the reason for the exile. But that was a factor." He said, slowly, raising up his arms and leisurely stretching out in his seat. Mark winced a little at the loud sound the man's spine made when he cracked it. "I was a cop for a while. Took a bad injury to finally take me out. They gave me an office position after that."

"What happened?" Mark asked. 

"Well, there’s no real story to that. I was shot." Nic shrugged a little. "The recovery was a bitch and a half. Might have been for the best, though. Got me out of the line of fire and into a detective post." Nic said.

"I thought you said it was an office job." Mark replied.

"What exactly do you think detectives do? Chase serial killers down dark alleyways?" Nic asked with a wry smile. "I'll give you a hint, it's like 96 percent paperwork." 

"Yeah, well. Hollywood has apparently led me astray." Mark replied, feeling a lot more at ease, now that he had the man talking. "So what are you doing out here, in the middle of nowhere?" Mark asked.

Nic raised an eyebrow at that. "This is not the middle of nowhere." He said.

Mark gave him a confused look. "Um. Did you not notice the miles and miles of never ending snow covered fields on your way out here?" 

Nic looked to him incredulously. Then, his eyes widened suddenly in realization. "Oh." He said, giving Mark a wicked grin. He brushed off Mark’s concerns with a careless toss of his hand. "That must be Virgil's cute vampire trick. Mark, you're not in the middle of nowhere. You're in the middle of Detroit."

Mark blinked. Then blinked again. He slammed his hands down on the table and pushed himself out of the chair. "Detroit?!" He demanded. 

"Yeah." Nic said, tipping the chair backwards, like he was surprised to see Mark suddenly turn spitfire. "This whole building is an abandoned train station."

Out of the corner of his eye, there was a glimmer, something flickering outside the window. Mark moved from the table and towards it, placing his hands flat against the plane of glass. That endless winter landscape was suddenly gone, nowhere to be seen. And while there was still snow, (it was December, after all,) it wasn't the wasteland he was used to seeing it. There were other, ramshackle buildings that he had never seen before. There was a set of old, banged up train tracks, laying in shambles, side by side, with steel rusted over and wood in shambles. It was like once Nic pointed it out, the spell was broken, and Mark was seeing things for what they really were.

And fuck he was  _ pissed _ . 

“Son of a bitch.” Mark whispered. “That motherfucker was right…” 

Nic cleared his throat behind him. “What motherfucker?” 

Mark turned back around, looking to Nic. He thought it best though, not to go spilling his demons right away, especially not to a member of Virgil’s family that he’d just met. Especially he actually, legitimately was, a demon. He tucked his hair behind his ear and just kind of shrugged it off. “Nothing, just… talking to myself.” He mumbled, as he trudged back to the table.

Nic looked kind of infuriatingly amused, about all of this. “I’m guessing he didn’t exactly keep you in the loop, did he?” 

“No.” Mark said, as he sank back into his chair. “Not at all.” 

“You’ll have to forgive my nephew. He’s been through it.” 

“Oh, I know.” Mark said, crossing his arms over his chest. “This whole babyvamp thing has been hard on him, it’s just-”

“I’m not talking about that.” Nic said, tipping his chair back. “I’m talking about with his dad. That’s why I’m here, actually.”

Mark raised his head back up, his little fit cut short. “His dad?” Mark asked. “Who he doesn’t speak to?” 

“Yeah.” Nic said. “What do you know about Virgil’s family?” 

Mark’s shrugged a little. “That they’re a bunch of vampire hunters. Well, I guess it’s not the best term. Paranormal entity hunters. Not just vampires.” Mark explained. “They go back generations and found a way to make money out of the trade.” 

Nic snickered a little at that. “Not a ton of money. You don’t make money unless you’re really crooked about it. But our family got by.” 

“And Virg wanted out.” Mark noted. 

“Yeah.” Nic said. “He probably won’t get the chance to, now. I was really rooting for the kid, too. Him and his brother. But I guess Morgan’s just fantastic at it, and now Virg being turned.” He sighed. “It’s sad. Virgil’s dad is a hardass.” 

“I’ve heard that too.” Mark remembered what Virgil told him. 

“Yeah, he gets it from our dad. Virg’s grandpa.” Nic said. “I don’t think I ever heard that man tell a joke his entire life. Isaiah took right after him.” He paused, looking at Mark. “ That’s Virgil’s dad.” He explained.

Mark nodded, and Nic continued. 

“Isaiah was desperate for his approval, growing up. But I mean, Isaiah was about 14 years older than me, I guess that’s just natural. He was stuck between the two of us. I was the rebellious younger brother, I ‘didn’t get it.’ I wasn’t cool.” He said with a shrug. “But Isaiah did his damndest to please our dad, and when he passed, he left the legacy of all those hunters, hundreds of generations behind us to him.” Nic explained. “He took it seriously. He got married. Had Morgan and Virgil.” Nic smiled a bit at the memory. “I loved those two boys to death. You know, Isaiah took Morgan on his first hunt when that kid was seven?” 

“Shit.” Mark said, thinking about his daughter back home. She was only four, but he couldn’t imagine putting his kind in the path of that kind of danger, not even as she got older. 

“Yeah. We got into a vicious fight about it. But Isaiah pointed out that Morgan was fine, and I mean, I had a normal human job, what could I do about it?” Nic shrugged. “It wasn’t like I could report him to CPS. What could I tell ‘em?” 

“Yeah, I guess if you started raving about vampires to the authorities they’d look at you like  _ you’re  _ the lunatic.” Mark noted.

“Exactly.” Nic said. “His wife didn’t have much to say about it, so I guess it was none of my business anyways.” 

“Virgil’s mom?” 

“Yeah.” Nic shrugged a little. “Adelia. Beautiful girl. Astounding mother. She’s the reason why I stopped talking to Isaiah.”

Mark cocked his head at that. “Why’s that?” He asked, expecting something along the lines of it being a star-crossed lovers situation. Something you shouldn’t admit to, like ‘I had a crush on my brother’s wife so I made myself scarce’.

So it was a complete shock when Nic gave him a serious look and said; “Because I watched Isaiah murder her, in front of their two boys.”

Mark could have fallen out of his chair. “What?” He asked. “But… Virgil just said she’d died, not that she’d been murdered- he made it seem like she’d been ill.” 

“Yeah… he probably doesn’t remember.” Nic said. “Virgil was only three when it happened. Maybe four? Somewhere in there.” 

Mark instantly thought of Jenn. That was how old his baby girl was. And thinking of her having to witness something like that, her father killing her mother… well, him, he supposed.

His heart sank. Both for Virgil, and for Jenn. Hell, it made him ache to hold her. 

“Why?” Mark asked sadly.

“Well, Isaiah was a hunter, and he always put that above everything else.” Nic explained. “So some uppity vampire prick learned he had a family, and saw his opportunity for revenge. She went missing for a few days, and we turned the damn state upside down trying to find her. We didn’t even realize how we were too late.” Nic said softly. “When they let her go, she knew Isaiah would never allow her to be around the kids, and she was going to accept that. One night, she came over to the house and asked if he’d at least let her say her goodbyes to the little ones. It was heartbreaking.” Nic shook his head a little. “She practically begged him, on her knees. I took her side, cause you know. If both me and Isaiah were there, nothing could realistically happen to the boys. At some point though, Morgan heard the commotion and came downstairs, holding his little brother’s hand. Virgil was his shadow growing up, so anywhere he went, he was going to follow along too. With both of them watching what was happening, she tried to get them to come to her, and Isaiah…” Nic shook his head. “It was terrible. Bloody. I couldn’t do anything. Isaiah was in such a rage, and of course the boys tried to run to their mother. I held them back.” Nic said. “I’d never heard the boys cry like that, the way they did that night.”

“Fuck, man.” Mark said, voice low. “That’s awful.” 

“It sure was.” Nic agreed.

“What happened after that?” Mark asked.

“Well, I got the boys out of there. Helped my brother to hide the body. I was mad as hell, but in the end, he was my brother, you know? I didn’t want him going to jail, and leaving those boys without a dad, when they had just lost their mother. She’s still considered missing in the state of Rhode Island.” Nic shrugged. “That poor woman.” He trailed off a little. 

“I guess it makes sense that Virgil wouldn’t remember that.” Mark said softly. “That’s the kind of trauma you block out of your memory, if you can help it.” 

“Yeah, that’s why I’m not terribly surprised he doesn’t remember.” Nic said. “But, I think that’s probably for the best, you know? I mean Morgan was just devastated.” Nic said solemnly.

“Yeah.” Mark said, feeling sad for both Virgil and Morgan right then. “And this has to do with why you’re here, now?” Mark asked.

“Oh. Right.” Nic said, like he’d entirely forgotten that topic. He straightened up a bit in his chair, levelling Mark with a serious look. “Isaiah’s on his way here. Now. To kill Virgil.” 

Mark’s face fell.”What?” 

“He actually tried to recruit me in his quest. That’s how I know.” Nic said. “He’s bringing along Virgil’s brother, Morgan, too.” 

“But Virgil isn’t hurting anyone!” Mark paused, thinking of the hunter Virgil had killed that morning. He quickly corrected himself. “Virgil isn’t hurting anyone who doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve to die!”

“You’ll never be able to explain that to Isaiah.” Nic deadpanned. “He killed his own wife because she was turned. To him the only good vampire is a dead one, and if you get in his way he may end you too.” He said seriously. “So really we need to get Virgil and-” 

They both paused when the door swung open. Mark braced himself for it to be a pissed off, elderly hunter, but he was relieved to see it was just Virgil and Carly, standing in the door way and looking fairly concerned

Virgil looked to the uncle he hadn’t seen in years. The man stared back. Carly gasped at the sight of ex-cop.

“Uncle Nic?” Virgil said.

“Nic-” Carly paused, glancing back to Virgil. “He’s your uncle?” 

Mark started at her tone. “Why did you say that like you have a history?” He asked her, mostly joking. 

“Well.” Carly said, looking rather sheepish. “That’s because we do.” 


	4. Apocalyptic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this one took so long. Seems like that's the running theme for all these chapters, but I'm going to school, and that doesn't leave me much time to work on this series. I'm still working on it, though, just please remember that I have a full schedule these days. Hopefully, this chapter will tide you all over in quarantine. Also, if you're new to this series, consider reading the whole series! There's so much here now, a lot of backstory, and what better time then now when we're all under house arrest? I've put everything together chronologically in the Storm Warning collection, which you can find [here.](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1304717)

"Damien?" 

"Yes, Kasmilos?"

Milo glanced up as the man beside him shifted, assuming a more comfortable position as they stood there, at the side of the road. Milo hadn't the patience for these things on a good day. He began kicking at a few of the stray rocks at the side of the dirt road in demonstrations of his impatience. Beside him, Damien sighed. 

"Stop messing with the desert pavement, you ecoterrorist." Damien deadpanned, gesturing vaguely at the rocks, and shooting a glare at the other man.

Milo gave Damien a hard look, trying to remind his friend exactly who he was trifling with. The man might have been one of his closest friends, but he was still a god, and not one who was used to being ‘trifled’ with. "The what?" he demanded.

"Where you're standing. Stop it. You're fucking with fragile ecosystems." Damien said. Milo raised an eyebrow at him so high that it nearly disappeared under the swoop of his bangs. Damien bothered to explain further. “Those rocks that you are kicking around took millions, if not more, years to form, it will be many millions of years more before your scuffling over there disappears and those rocks return to their natural state. In Blythe Native Tribes left drawings in the pavement that have been there for thousands of years. In World War II General Patton brought tanks to the Mojave Desert to perform drills and the markings they left behind are still visible today, eighty years later. Tiny desert creatures make their shelters in those rocks. Stop. Acting like a child. Watch. The damn. Gunfight.” 

Milo stared at him for a moment more, honestly debating giving him a scathing response. But he had to keep himself calm. He still needed Damien’s help, after all. He dropped his shoulders and sighed. "Okay. Fine. I've literally never known you to give a shit about that, but okay. Now please answer the question. Why are we here?"

"Come again?" Damien asked, as if he didn’t know what Milo was talking about. Milo felt like he was beginning to lose his sanity. 

"Why are we here, in Arizona, watching a fake gunfight take place in the middle of the road?" He spelled out for him, much more slowly, as if Damien were the imbecile, here.

“Oh.” The magician replied, straightening up a bit, from his relaxed position. Trying perhaps, to make himself taller, or maybe, be more of an authority. Kasmilos was a god after all, and tended to see himself as such. Damien would often try to meet him at his level. "Well, the answer to that should be obvious." Damien said, sweeping a hand out to the theatrical display. "Because it's in the middle of the road."

Kasmilo’s eyes widened in disbelief, scarcely unable to believe what he’s hearing.

"Uh-huh." Kasmilos replied drily, after taking a moment to school his features and prevent any other outbursts. "Am I to assume that we're getting back on the road immediately after the fake gunfight?" He asked. 

Damien’s attention to Milo though had phased out a bit, now concentrating back on the scene in front of them. "Hm?" Damien asked, when he finally processed what the other man was saying. "Oh yeah, sure."

Kasmilos narrowed his eyes at the sorcerer yet again. "Damien. Why do I feel like you're purposely leading me astray?"

This time, Damien shot him a glare that made it perfectly clear that his patience with Milo was running very thin. "Because you're a big psychopathic baby with violent tendencies. Makes you all paranoid." Damien snapped. "Shut the hell up. The sheriff just came out."

Milo glanced to the middle of the road. Sure enough, there was now a sheriff character in the middle of the road, looking like he had just stepped out of an old spaghetti-western, holding at hip-height a small handgun pointed towards three bandit-looking characters. Milo snorted at the sight. The man was probably about to fan that thing too, proving that all of his knowledge of shooting back in the day actually had come from a spaghetti-western. While he hadn't been paying attention to the plot the way Damien seemed to be, and he certainly wasn't invested in the show for his own critiques, because he wanted to find his husband. He needed to see Mark, and he was tired of wasting his time in this tourist trap near-ghost town.

And Damien, who could teleport, for fuck's sake, seemed to be taking him on a Beavis and Butthead style roadtrip. He knew that Damien didn't like to teleport around, just because of how he felt afterwards, but this was an emergency. His husband had been _kidnapped_. He'd been missing for nearly a year.

Why was Damien being so _cavalier_ about this?!

And the only answer that he could conceive of was that Damien knew more than he was letting on, but he was telling him nothing. He pestered the man again. "Damien."

"Do you remember the last time we came through this part of Arizona?" Damien asked, his tone, for the first time that day, bordering on serious. 

Milo paused. Had they been in Oatman before? The only reason Milo had any idea at all as to where they were now was because he’d been paying attention to the road. He tipped his head to the side as he thought it over. He took in the scenery and tried to recall, and he realized after a moment that they had been through there before. It had been so long ago, though, that he was surprised Damien remembered it.

"Chasing down yet another stupid rumor of Confederate gold?" Milo asked. "Cause you know. There's so much wealth to be had in losing a war." He said, with a half-crooked smile. Now that had been quite the adventure. Cersa and Damien had a scam they ran back in the late 1800s. Cersa would use her abilities as a siren to trick men into falling for her, and Damien would offer them a ‘deal,’ so to speak, to persuade her to fall for them in return. And once they were done with the poor man, Cersa would collect half of their earnings, Damien would take the other half, and the Boss would take the soul. As Kasmilos understood it, it was a win all around. Well, except for their victim, of course.

"To be fair, it wasn't the gold the boss wanted." Damien pointed out. 

"That particular man, Cersa believed had some wealth."

"He did. But what does that matter, when you can't take it with you?" Damien shrugged.

“As I recall, both you and Cersa took it after you did him in.” Milo said, kind of side-eying him. Damien flashed a bit of a grin at that. “The price we earned for a job well-done. That was… that was quite the adventure, wasn’t it?” 

“It was. The one time your cute little scam nearly did the both of you in.” Milo reminded. “I found you hanging by your neck in that Confederate’s basement.” 

“I don’t remember that.” Damien said, with a curt shake of his head.

“No?” Milo asked him skeptically. “I found you hanging by your neck, in that man’s basement.” he said. “If I hadn’t cut you down you’d still be there.”

“No… but I do recall having to summon a magic field to protect you and Cersa from oncoming fire from a group of pissed off Yankee soldiers.” Damien reminded him.

“No… No,I don’t think that happened.” Milo hummed teasingly. 

Damien scoffed. “Of course you wouldn’t.” 

Kasmilos laughed in his deep voice. “Hm. Getting nostalgic, old man?”

“Oh, fuck off.” Damien said almost fondly, before their conversation was interrupted by a burst of gunfire. The bandits in turn dropped to the ground, leaving behind the sheriff, standing tall over them, victorious. Milo had been right, and the sheriff fanned the damned weapon. Damien cocked his head a little at the sight. 

“Damien, I have a theory…” Milo began to say, but Damien waved him off, beginning to walk away as the show came to an end. It took Milo a moment, but he finally spotted a hat being passed around. Damien pulled out his wallet, and Milo followed his motion. Even though Milo hadn’t been particularly entertained, he dropped at least as much money in the hat as Damien did, because he wasn’t one to be shown up when it came to his own generosity. Once that was done, Damien began to walk with him back towards their car. 

“Well… there’s a reason I bring this all up. You remember all of this, right?” Damien asked.

“I figured as much.” Milo said, and he nodded, so that Damien could get to his point.

“I keep thinking about it. That conversation we had. After we found a safe place to hide out in, and me and Cersa split the money, I ended up asking you about Emma.” Damien said softly. Milo looked away, finding himself unable to look the man in the eyes when he brought up that name. “Yeah.” Damien continued. “You were still very much a man in mourning.” Damien said. “In some ways, I think you still are.” 

“What is your reason for bringing that up?” Milo asked, and there was an unfamiliar note to his voice then as though it were trembling. After all this time, nearly 200 years after she’d died, it was odd to think that he was still getting choked up over that girl. 

Damien shrugged a little. “It’s just something that’s been on my mind. I never met her, you know?” He said. “But I knew you before she did. And I’ve known you for a good amount of time after.” He said. “You changed after what happened to her.” 

“I don’t want to discuss this. This is a waste of both of our time.” Milo tried to bring the conversation to a halt. He didn’t understand what good it did, now. Emma was dead. She’d died horrifically. The only thing that he could do now was get to Mark, so that the same didn’t happen to him. 

“You _never_ did.” Damien said, his tone accusatory now. “She _changed_ you. What happened to her changed _you_.” 

“Yes!” Milo agreed, readily. “What, is that a crime now? I loved her…” 

“Mark isn’t her. Whatever you see in him that reminds you of her, he’s not the same person.He’s not her.” Damien said firmly. 

“I never expected him to be.” Milo defended himself.

“Yeah, well. You keep the same level of silence about your current relationship as you did about your past one.” Damien said. “And sometimes I wonder if you took Mark to fill the void she left behind. Kasmilos.” he said firmly. “I’ll say it again. You changed after that. You were angrier. More violent.” 

“Tell me you would be any different.” Milo challenged him. “Tell me what you’d do if it was-”

“Don’t even try to go there.” Damien snapped darkly. Milo realized very quickly that was taking things too far with the man. A moment later, with his tone taking on a softer cadence: “I’m just saying. Maybe it’s time to face that pain, instead of taking it out on Mark.” 

Kasmilos didn’t reply right away, as he studied the other man. He suspected there was something more to this. But what, exactly? “Who have you been…?”

A song cut through the air between them, and it gave both men pause. It was a cheerful little tune, if the quality of it struck him as being rather electronic. Recognition danced across Damien’s features and he moved to retrieve the phone from his pocket. He tapped a few buttons on the screen before putting it to his ear, turning away from Milo like that would afford him some privacy. Unfortunately, Milo could still hear him. 

“Carly? Are you okay?” Damien asked, as he listened to the girl on the other end. Milo rolled his eyes. Naturally, leave it to Damien’s obnoxious goth girlfriend to break up their conversation when-

“What do you mean, your ex is with you? You mean Virgil?” Damien snapped, and that naturally got Milo’s attention. As he drew near Damien began to shout into the phone. “Who the fuck is Nick? Nick?” Damien asked, really sinking into the ‘ck’ of the mystery man’s name. “No, it's okay for you to be with Virgil. Virgil’s gay. Anyone can see that. You never told me about a Nick. Nic. Whatever.” he said. 

Milo could almost make out the sound of Carly’s voice on the other end of this call and she did not sound pleased. “No, fuck that’s not… Don’t you dare hang up on…” 

Damien whipped around, grabbing Milo’s arm. The world whirled around the two of them and suddenly, instead of wasting their time in a warm desert, they were standing in snow up to their ankles. “Shit, fuck, Damien!” Milo protested, wrapping his arms around himself. He hadn’t been dressed for snowy weather before the transport, so to suddenly be dropped into the middle of an icy storm had been quite the shock to his senses. 

Damien turned off his phone and gave Milo a serious look. “Change of plans.” he said. “We needed to get to Michigan now.” 

“What. The fu-” 

“Look, shut up.” Damien said, as he twisted Milo’s arm around, causing the man to stumble. “We have to find them now.” 

“See?”

Milo glanced up at the sound of that feminine tone. Without even looking, he recognized Carly’s midwestern accent. She and Damien’s Griever were standing in the middle of an open, snow covered field. There was nothing else in sight, no buildings, just the foliage of the woods surrounding them. Nothing that could be harmed in a fight. And standing beside her was _the vampire_.

Virgil glanced back at Carly. The woman was standing there, cell phone in hand, her other hand resting on her hip. Milo didn’t care about either of them. He only had one thing on his mind

“Where’s Ma-”

“Who the fuck is Nic!” Damien interrupted before he could even get a word out, pushing Milo aside as Damien went to confront the girl. 

Carly didn’t even seem slightly perturbed. She shot a look at Virgil. “See?” She said. “I told you I could get them here in thirty seconds or less.”

“I owe you ten dollars.” Virgil sighed.

Milo’s eyes widened slightly. “Damien.” He said, to the oblivious man. “I think this might have been a trap-” 

~~

“I met Carly as her dad was throwing her out of his house. Literally, he pushed her out onto the sidewalk, and began throwing her things at her out of the window. She just stood there, watching, clearly had no idea what to do, and so I took her in.”

“That’s incredibly kind of you.” Mark told him. 

Nic shrugged. “Well, I felt bad for her, you know. She had just lost everything.” Nic said. “After that, I taught her everything I knew. About vampires, cryptids, about how to survive on her own. How to get a mortgage. Everything.” he said. 

“And after all that, she left you to go to California?” Mark asked curiously. He couldn’t help himself. The girl was a mystery that would barge into his life, annoy the hell out of him, and pop right back out of it when she was done. And despite that the people who knew her seemed to be incredibly loyal to her. He wanted to know what he was missing.

“Naw, it wasn’t like that.” Nic dismissed immediately. “Her dad kept harassing her, even after she left home. He was a real, abusive piece of shit. It wasn’t safe for her to stay in Michigan. So I gave her some of my saved up money and sent her on her way.” Nic said. “I couldn’t leave my job, here so we split amicably.” 

“Weird though, how she ends up friends with your nephew.” Mark pointed out.

“Well, you know what they say. Small world I guess.” Nic grinned in a manner that suggested that maybe it wasn’t such a small world after all and he had possibly set that up, but it didn’t seem like Mark got to hear that side of the story.

After their conversation, both men were quiet for a while, which was fine, honestly. It was a lot for him to digest. It was hard to imagine Carly as anything other than a combative goth chick, so to think of her being a cold, lonely girl living on the streets? That was hard to take in. She had always seemed so strong to him.

Mark didn’t have anything on him but the winter clothes he was wearing and one of Virgil’s butterfly knives. Driving down a darkened road in a heavily wooded area now outside of _fucking Detroit_. He still felt a little betrayed by that. How dare Virgil take him deep within enemy territory? In all honesty though, Virgil probably hadn’t had much of a choice in that regard. Virgil didn’t have much in the way of money, he probably only could have gone wherever Carly took him. And since most of what she knew was her hometown, he supposed it would only make sense that she’d take them both there.

Sitting in the driver’s seat, just being one hell of a trooper, driving through Detroit, and then driving Mark to wherever the fuck they were headed now, was a lot, but he didn’t seem to be having any difficulties. Without his phone or anything really to occupy him, he’d just been staring out the window, watching the trees dash quickly past the car window. It was a mesmerizing activity, reminiscent of the games one would quietly play as a child during a long road trip, and it was beginning to make him feel drowsy. He might have actually fallen asleep if Nic hadn’t cleared his throat, looking for his attention once again. 

“So, how’d you meet my nephew, anyways?” Nic asked. “I mean, I’m assuming he wouldn’t have, what’s the word?” Nic asked, tipping his head to the side as he tried to think of a tasteful way to put this, Mark was sure. “Attached, I guess- himself to you so, if he wasn’t already close to you?” 

Mark thought about just how close he’d gotten to Virgil in the past few months, and slowly nodded. “Yeah, you could say that I guess.” he said. “Um… this is going to sound weird, but we met when I was pregnant with my daughter.” 

Nic didn’t even blink. “That’s not even close to the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard.” he said with a bit of an amused hum. Mark was beginning to see that the Warren family was unshakeable. He remembered Virgil not being terribly surprised about his pregnancy either. 

“Yeah.” Mark continued. “I was pregnant and my husband… he wasn’t my husband at the time, he was in a coma.” Mark explained.

“Ah, so Virgil kind of weaselled his way in, huh?” Nic asked with a laugh. “What a stud.”

“It wasn’t like that.” Mark shook his head. “Virgil was a gentleman. He wasn’t trying to get in between us.” He said defensively. “He was just very sweet. Took care of me and baby. Even after I had her, and my husband… his name is Milo, even after he woke up.” He said. Mark grew very quiet then, as he remembered the past five years. It really seemed like ages now. Who would have ever thought that this was the twist his life would take? Hell, he’d just been unassumingly trying to walk his dog; magic, gods and goddesses, vampires, all of these things were the furthest thing from his mind. He looked back at that time, who he was, and what he’d been trying to do, and saw a child, fumbling through the waters of adulthood. He felt like he was a completely different person now, for better or for worse. One of the few constants he’d had was Virgil. “I don’t know what I would have done without Virgil.” he admitted. 

“So is Milo still in the picture…” Nic drawled a little. Mark grit his teeth a little at the question, anticipating some kind of jab being hurled at his husband. Turned out, he didn’t even need to answer that. “Ah, and he’s still in the picture. Not that a young vampire like Virgil would care, probably.” 

“Yeah he didn’t really care about that.” Mark added, remembering how the vampire had snatched him up. That had been something of a trip. One moment he was standing in his garage, and the next? White. Endless white. So much of it that it hurt his eyes. Eventually Virgil found the ‘cabin’ and that was where they settled. Then he was sick for a while, and that only lended to the strange, out of placing feeling he’d had. He felt like the past few months he’d spent as a character in a high fantasy novel. Like Rapunzel, maybe, trapped in a tower, somewhere. But he supposed that had something to do with Virgil’s strange, vampire magic.

"And you're still trying to help my nephew, despite the whole kidnapping thing." Nic must have realized then. Mark didn’t have an answer for him right away. He just thought about all the times he was stuck alone with a fussy baby, trying to figure out how to soothe her, especially when he had some important business the next day. When it was so late at night that he didn’t want to bother anyone else, but he was so tired and he just had to get some sleep. Desperate and unsure, he’d call Virgil. And everytime he did that, without fail, Virgil would grab his overnight back, get in his car, drive through early morning, nightmarish L.A. traffic, and take Jenn just so that Mark could finally, finally sleep for a few hours. Which probably would have seemed like such a small thing but he was a parent now. That had meant the world to him.

"It's complicated.” Mark finally answered. “Virgil's been one of my best friends, and most ardent supporters, for years. I can't even think about abandoning him, because I know he would never do that to me."

"I think most people would consider it though, after the first kidnapping attempt." Nic sagely pointed out.

"I couldn't do that. Not to Virgil." Mark insisted again.

It was blessedly quiet between them again, as Nic absorbed all of this information. Mark could appreciate that about the other man. He liked to let the gears turn a bit before he snapped back with an answer. 

When he was good and ready, he finally spoke up again. "So, I have to ask the question. Do you love him? My nephew? Virgil?"

Mark’s eyes widened a bit at the question. "Wow. You know, I don't think anyone's ever put the question to me like that. Yes. Of course. Virgil’s just a good man. Gentle. Kind. He deserves the world. If things had happened any differently, and I met him first, I would have fallen for him in a second. And Milo’s… he’s… different. But I still love my husband." Mark said.

“You’re right. That is complicated.” Nic said. 

Mark nodded. Then abruptly, he spilled something else that was on his mind. Nic just had a way of making a person feel comfortable enough to do that. "Milo and I have had a public relationship for years now. I mean there are fan pages devoted to the two of us. That kind of puts pressure on the relationship to work out too. It's not just me and my kid I'm thinking about here, and that feels messed up. This should be something I'm thinking about for myself and for my family. My daughter. What’s best for us. The public et all should have no bearing on this decision, but I can’t help thinking about that too." 

"Yeah. Okay. I can't comment on that, I'm obviously not famous in any kind of way." Nic chuckled a bit. “I don’t even have a facebook, and everyone my age has one of those.” 

“It’s just something that’s been on my mind.” Mark said softly. "But I mean they know about Virgil too. He's actually willing to appear in my videos sometimes. They think he’s a friend. Whereas, Milo's a lot more private. Again, not that I should care what anyone outside of my family thinks, but there’s a part of me that worries about the response I’ll get. But after all of this, I think I know what I want. But I don’t know that that’s what’s best for my kid. What the hell do I know what’s best for her? I’m just a beginner at this whole parenthood thing. I just- I don't know. I'm torn."

Mark realized after that he just sort of dumped everyone of his tumultuous emotions on poor, unsuspecting Nic. He probably should have felt embarrassed about that, but Nic didn’t seem perturbed. The man hummed, side-eying Mark without taking his eyes off of the road.

"Do you want my opinion?" Nic asked after a while.

"Couldn't hurt." Mark said.

"Fuck Milo. Pick my nephew."

Mark just stared at the other man in a stunned silence. That really hadn’t been what he was expecting to hear. It pricked up his defensive hackles almost immediately, but Nic was quick to put a soothing hand up. It brought anything he was going to say, without thinking, to a dead halt. 

"That was biased. But Virgil's my nephew, so I think I’m allowed. I'm guessing you were looking for something a little more helpful?" The man asked him.

"Yeah." Mark admitted.

"Call a therapist. I'm just a crotchety old detective. Best I can do is listen." Nic said to Mark.

The man had a point. Mark tipped his head to the side thoughtfully. "Actually…” He replied, “I think that's actually pretty helpful too." Even if the man didn’t have anything productive to add, it did sort of help to give him space to vent. Maybe he just needed the space to complain about his issues, and for that, Nic was actually very helpful. 

The conversation seemed over after that. Nic concentrated on the road, while Mark stared back out of the window. This was actually sort of nice. At this point, anything was nicer than being stuck at the cabin. Well, his brain was still calling it a cabin, even though he knew the reality of it now. The train station. The _irony_ . That was a revelation he still wasn’t used to, that he’d been stuck, for months, in a place where thousands of people had once gathered to get the hell out of Dodge. The way it was explained to him later was that the cabin was actually an office that an engineer had to work late hours in. Hence the bathroom/shower combo. Had to have been an important guy, before he let the station fall to pieces. Point being, this was the first time in months Mark wasn’t stuck by himself staring at four walls in a space that was steadily growing more stale and confined, and he was _living_ for this. 

Things were quiet for a while, until suddenly, beside him, Nic gasped. “Hold on!” The man instructed. Before Mark could react, Nic reached out, grabbing him by the shirt and bracing him against the seat with a protective arm against his chest. Mark felt the impact quickly after, spinning them completely around on an ice covered road.

“Nic!” Mark shouted the man’s name. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got this.” Nic said, as the car finally slid to a slow halt. Mark was breathing so hard his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. Once he had soothed his panic down he realized that they both could have easily been hurt in that wreck. Nic’s expert handling had saved them both.

“What the fuck.” Mark sputtered out, as Nic finally released his shirt.  
  


“Out of the car.” Nic snapped, coughing a bit, as he forced open the door on his side of the vehicle. Mark didn’t have to be told twice. It took him some work due to the damage that had been done to the body of the car, but he was able to push it open.

Once he was standing outside, Mark was able to see what the hell had happened. Another car had smacked them from behind, at an angle that suggested they were trying to force them off the road. Which was insane. The roads were covered with ice; and it made Mark wonder if the other driver was actually trying to kill them. Before he could really wrap his head around that, two men exited the other car, the driver and his passenger. 

Mark glanced over to Nic, who was standing, partially shielded behind his car door. Mark wondered too late if maybe he should be doing the same. But then he saw Nic squint at the two figures, and he tried to take a step forward, but he suddenly slid to the side, nearly losing his footing. He swore under his breath, wondering if the man had been hurt, trying to protect him in the crash. 

The two figures approached. Reacting quickly, Mark slammed his door, moved to the front of the car, slid over the hood and landed on the other side. He went to help Nic but the man just shook his head, wiping his nose on his shirt sleeve. 

“Don’t worry.” Nic hissed, as he took Mark’s arm and tried to direct the man behind him. 

“If you’re hurt.” Mark hissed back at him. “You need to tell me now.”

“It’s fine.” Nic hissed back at him, 

“Boys.” 

That hard voice got both of their attention. Mark glanced up from where he was hovering close to Nic and saw the old man first. He was dressed in a tan vest with a faded gray undershirt, with brown slacks that fell into knee-high cowboy boots. He even clinked as he walked towards Mark, like he had spurs or something tapping along the thin sheen of ice clinging to the road. The man had on a large overcoat and a cowboy hat to complete the look. He had on a huge Texas size belt buckle, and as the man moved towards them, the coat wavered in the wind just a bit to reveal two holsters hidden at his hips. The lines in the man’s face had set it into a permanent angry expression. He had a very ‘man with no name’ vibe to him that made him intimidating.

The other man was the complete opposite. He was totally hot. Mark’s mouth dropped open at the sight of the muscular, (but not too muscular), surfer-looking, golden-haired Adonis that approached on his side. Holy shit. His heart actually skipped a beat. Why did no one warn him that Virgil’s brother was _gorgeous_?

“Shit.” Mark whispered. He was about to be in a lot of fucking trouble.

He hoped the blonde man hadn’t heard him but naturally Mark never had that kind of luck. The man looked to him and gave him a wink. “Hey there.” The man openly flirted back with him.

Mark was never one to give a shit if he’d done something embarrassing, because embarrassing himself just his natural state. But if he still had the capacity to be affected by that embarrassment, it might have killed him right then.

The old man shot Virgil’s brother a look. “Morgan, stop.” He said, almost fondly, like he was chiding a favorite son. From some of Virgil’s stories, Mark figured it was probably exactly that. Morgan didn’t seem the least bit sorry, neither with the flirting or being the favorite. 

“Isaiah.” Nic stood to his full height beside Mark. It completely took his attention away from Virgil’s hot brother. Nic assumed a position that was entirely at ease, as he grinned over at his brother, but it was what Nic wasn’t saying that said everything. Like the way he was gripping the car door like he’d keel over if he didn’t. Nic was hurt in the crash, and as Mark glanced inside he could tell how. It was dark but he could see droplets of blood on the steering wheel and windshield. 

Kind of impressive that Nic hadn’t proceeded to drive them into a tree.

“Nicolas.” Isaiah said, as he took in the sight of the two of them. He didn’t say anything else as he scanned the wreck, like he expected Virgil to be with them. “Where’s my boy, Nicolas?” 

“Hey, come on, Isaiah.” Nic said, clearly trying to get his brother to listen to him. “You gotta leave the boy alone. Virgil’s not a threat to-”

“Morgan and I are not here to listen to you.” The old man, Virgil’s father shot him down. “Where’s my boy?” He demanded again.

Morgan spoke up then, taking a much calmer approach than his father. “Look here, Nic. We don’t want Virgil to suffer, either. He’s my brother. Do you really think we want the empty shell of who he used to be, stumbling around, preying on his loved ones? Work with us, Nic. I don’t want him to suffer. We’ll make it quick.” 

Mark lost his boner for the man pretty much immediately. “How could you say that? Like he’s a dog, and you’re gonna take him out behind the shed and shoot him?” Mark protested, angrily.

Morgan looked wounded at that, but he was still the epitome of calm in that moment, even though what he was saying sounded completely insane. “Listen.” Morgan said specifically to Mark. “He’s my brother. I grew up with him. I watched him become a man. I spent countless hours looking after him, and trust me, I know him better than you do. And because I care for him, I don’t want him continuing to exist as one of those creatures.” 

“What does it matter if his physical form has changed?” Nic asked. “You know Virgil, he’s not one to lose his humanity. He’s working very hard to keep it. You don’t put someone down because they’ve lost their leg. The core of who he is hasn’t changed. He’s still in there. He’s just different now.”

“He would never intentionally hurt anyone.” Mark added.

Morgan and Isaiah glanced at each other, then back to Mark. “I’m gonna take it, you're the one he attached himself to.” Isaiah figured out after a moment. 

Mark paused, looking to Nic for a moment, to see whether or not he should answer, only to see the man shrug in response. After that helpful exchange, Mark glanced back to Virgil’s dad. “What if I am?” He asked. 

“Well that answers that.” Isaiah said darkly, and he began to move towards Mark, brushing past Morgan in long strides. Nic released the car door, taking Mark’s arm and shoving him further back. 

“Now hold on, Isaiah, listen to reason.” Nic said. “Virgil’s your son. Your kid. That you purportedly love. You gonna kill him, just like that?”

“That creature is just a shell of the child I once loved.” Isaiah hissed as he continued to move closer. “And I find it absolutely abhorrent that you would try and defend it. We were brought up to destroy monsters.”

“He is not hurting you, he just wants to live his life and mind his own business.” Mark continued to protest. 

“Get the fuck out of my way, Nic.” Isaiah growled.

“Dad!” Mark heard Morgan shout.

But it was too late. Before either of them realized what happened Mark shoved Nic out of the way, taking the hit that was meant for him. 

Mark had put himself through a lot, in the name of seeing what his body could take. He had been pepper sprayed. He had been tased. He’d cut himself a time or two while learning to wield a butterfly knife. But he had never been shot before. That hurt so much worse than anything he could have ever imagined.

_How could Isaiah shoot his own brother??_

Mark placed a hand over his stomach, and could just barely feel the injury, just off to the side of his stomach. He realized he was sinking backwards and he stumbled, trying to grab onto the car, but his fingers, slick with his own blood, didn’t allow him the grip to hold on. As he began to slide down to the road, Mark’s vision began to grow watery. He could hear a scuffle happening off to his side, but he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. 

“No no no no, Dad, not again!” Mark heard Morgan’s voice near to him, coming from somewhere near to him. 

Mark felt Virgil’s brother suddenly grab his arm and pull him upright, on his feet. But the motion was so jaring, so unhelpful, that Mark’s head spun and before he knew what was happening he fell unconscious, right into Morgan’s arms.

~~

"Auntie Cersa?"

Cersa glanced over to her plucky, tiny niece, who was playing with a couple of princess dolls, while the tv ran in the background. Honestly, taking care of kids wasn’t so hard, Cersa thought, pleased with herself. You just turn on the TV, feed ‘em when they’re hungry, put ‘em to bed at eight, and that was about it. Or maybe Jenn was just an easy child. Who knew these things? Not her, She’d never stuck around for the whole ‘raising a child’ part, her interest tended to dwindle once they could talk back. "Shoot, kiddo." She invited Jenn to speak.

The little girl placed a doll in her auntie’s lap, along with a doll-sized brush, obviously expecting Cersa to help her with the doll’s hair while they talked. "Why did daddy leave?" She asked, as she worked on the hair of another doll.

"Um. Technically, I don’t think he had a choice." Cersa replied, as she picked up the doll and the brush. The doll was one of those cheap ones where the hair was only hanging on by a thread, and any serious work on it would result in a bald doll, so she didn’t really see the point. Then again, at least half of baby-sitting seemed to be humor the child, so she tried to untangle the mess of blonde locks. "We don’t know the whole story yet, but I guess we’ll find out pretty soon, when your dad drags him back to Cali by his ear." Cersa hummed.

“I see.” Jenn said quietly, casting her eyes downward sadly.

"Hey, you know that your daddy wouldn’t have left you behind. Not if he had any choice. Right?" She asked. The little girl nodded quietly but it seemed like a token gesture. Cersa smiled at her. "Yeah. Your daddy loves you. Just… in the meantime, you get to spend time with your aunties. Isn’t that fun?"

"I guess."

"You really know how to make me feel wanted, Jenny-girl." Cersa laughed. “Got anything else you want to ask me?” She asked, just to make sure.

“When do I get fins?” Jenn asked, causing Cersa to cringe.

“Okay. That one I don’t know.” She hummed a little. “It might not happen. It might when you don’t expect it. All of Poseidon’s grandkids look a little different, have different abilities. I’m sure whatever you get, it’ll be perfectly suited to you and your personality.”

Jennifer pouted a little, bottom lip sticking out slightly. “I guess.” She finally agreed.

Cersa laughed at that. "Probably you’ll get something that displays your wild impatience. Look, Jenn. Your great, great, great grandfather was incredibly excited for your arrival. You have no idea how special you are, you're his first grandkid in thousands of years. There's no chance you were brought into this world without his blessing. You just have to grow into it." Cersa insisted. "Kinda like when the other kids at school started missing their front teeth, and you had to wait to lose yours. You just had to be patient, and grow at your own pace." 

Jenn didn't look like she liked that answer, but she didn't argue any further. She took back her dolls and went to sit in front of the TV, so Cersa was able to get back to her magazine. 

Cersa was fully absorbed for a few minutes longer, when she heard the peal of thunder sounding outside. She cocked her head, checked the window behind her, and without moving, casually flipped the lever that would raise the window open. There was a gust of wind, the clinking of hail against the concrete outside, the dipping sound of ice hitting Mark and Milo's pool and sinking in. After a few minutes of this, Calypso appeared outside the window. Cersa waved casually at her cousin and scooted aside on the couch so that the dark-haired woman could climb in and sit beside her. Jenn, who was used to seeing her auntie arrive this way tensed up and moved far away from the window, suddenly seeming apprehensive. For the life of her Cersa couldn't figure out why. Jenn typically loved her aunties, especially the ones with fins. Cersa chalked it up to the sudden onset of the storm freaking her out, and didn't pay it too much mind. 

"What up cuz?" Cersa asked, and her cousin smirked at her, reaching out to meet her in that high five. 

"Well, not much I suppose." Calypso responded. "After all, the way I hear it, all the happenings are going on in your little neck of the woods." Her cousin smoothly purred. "How come you haven't told your cousins the good news about Mark?" Calypso demanded. 

"Oh, pft. Look." Cersa replied with a roll of her eyes. "I am co-parenting a child now." She said, indicating Jenn, who was still cowering, alone, in the farthest corner of the living room. "I am incredibly busy, like, you have no idea. Children have to eat. Bathe. Sleep! Learn things, apparently. I am exhausted." Cersa sighed, flipping a page in her magazine. "What little time I have left in my day belongs to Chris Hemsworth. I don't have time to individually update all 50 of you. Especially, when Facebook exists." Cersa told Calypso. "Did you not see my last status?" She asked.

"I was literally in the ocean until two minutes ago." Calypso pointed out to her. 

"Fair enough." Cersa said, closing her magazine. "So what can I do you for?"

"Well, I've been asking around, and my sisters, the wood nymphs, and a few of the cackling fae that I tripped over on my way over here have all informed me that this trip might not be going over well for Kaz." Calypso said in her gossip girl voice. "Why didn't you go with him? At a time like this, now is when he needs his family's support the most." 

"Um, maybe you know something that I don't, but last time I checked, children are not self-sufficient." Cersa said in a mocking tone, like her cousin had just said something mind-blowingly stupid. 

"Um, last I checked," Calypso mimicked her cousin's tone. "You have 50 cousins who have all had more experience watching this kid than you." Calypso pointed out.

"Oh." Cersa replied. "Yeah, I guess you're right about that. I suppose there is a reason why Mark and Milo don't ask me to babysit very often." She mused.

"Because you're an airhe-"

"Because I'm a better asset in battle, you're right, thanks Callie." She said, smacking Calypso's arm. Cersa stood from the couch and moved towards Jenn. "Hey honey, I have to go."

"No!" Jenn protested immediately. "I don't want you to go!" Cersa gasped to suddenly have the little girl jump into her arms so hard she nearly fell backwards.

“Jenny?” Cersa asked, trying to calm the little girl. She wrapped her arms around her, gently stroking her back. “What's wrong? You love spending time with your auntie.” 

Jenn glanced between Cersa and the woman sitting behind her. Calypso shrugged. “I think the storm startled her.” Calypso said, getting Cersa’s attention by echoing her thoughts from earlier. “That and it is kind of late. I bet she just needs to go to bed.” 

“Is that it, baby girl?” Cersa asked, looking back to Jenn and running her fingers through the girl’s brunette and pink locks. Jenn didn’t answer right away, and that confirmed the theory for Cersa. “Yeah, I think you’re right, Callie.” 

“Don’t worry about it, Cersa.” Calypso replied. “You get going and go be with your brother.” She said. “I’ll stay here with Jenn, and get her ready for bed.” She promised. 

Cersa nodded, moving to pick up the little girl and gently deposited her in Calypso’s arms. “I’ll be back before you know it.” She promised Jenn, as she leaned in and pressed a kiss to the top of the little girl’s head. “And I’ll bring your two dads home with me.” She said.

Jenn didn't say anything in return, just turned slightly to stare up at Calypso. Which was odd, Cersa would grant, but she didn’t question it much. After all, Calypso was the most responsible goddess she knew. She grabbed her phone, her keys, and headed out to where she had parked her car out on the street, ready to follow after Damien and Milo. She didn’t know where exactly the two had headed off towards, but she did know a bunch of nosy fae who could tell her.

Once she was gone, Calypso smiled down at the little girl. “Penny for your thoughts, Jenny?” She asked the little girl. 

The girl surprised him. She leveled a hard look at her auntie’s face and glared. “You.” She said firmly. “Are not my auntie.” She whispered.

Calypso raised an eyebrow at that. Then, slowly, a smile crept across the demon's borrowed face.

"Smart girl." He replied, as the woman's features melted away, leaving behind a tall, lanky, pale man, dressed in a white suit with a bright pink feather boa adorning his neck. "How did you guess that I'm not what I seemed?" He asked her. “Even your aunt was fooled.”

But before she could answer him, Jenn's face fell from that hard look she was giving him before. As his true form was revealed, the little girl's stoic and brave resolve disappeared, and her green eyes welled up with tears until they fell in fat streaks down her pink cheeks. 

"I want my daddies." She began to wail, as she tried to curl away from him.

His black heart melted at the sight. Contrary to popular belief, no demon worth anything wanted to see a child hurt or frightened. In fact, they tended to save the worst of their punishments for those who in life willingly harmed children. Why, he himself had a daughter somewhere out there in the world. So he grabbed a tissue from a nearby dispenser and began to dab at the girl's cheeks.

"Now don't cry, don't cry!" He gently shushed her, encouraging her to stop her tears. "I'm not here to hurt you. As a matter of fact, I know your uncle Damien." He said, and the girl finally looked to him, with curiosity instead of terror. "I'm sure he's spoken of me. I'm his boss."

The little girl sniffled a bit, but she finally calmed down. 

“You know my uncle Damien?” She asked him, and he nodded.

“And I know you little one.” he informed the little girl. He gently booped her nose, and his playfulness helped to set her at ease. “I know you very, very well. Why, I’m the one that named you.” 

The little girl didn’t seem like she quite believed him. Which was smart, of course, Mark would be pleased to see he was raising a skeptical kid. But she didn’t argue with him either. She just cocked her head to the side thoughtfully, like she was trying to make sense of all he’d told her. It was an adorable gesture. How could anyone with a conscience leave such a precious girl behind? 

“You still don’t quite trust me, do you?” He asked, and the little girl shook her head. “I suppose I’ll have to prove it to you.” He said, smiling as the little girl nodded. “Well I can do that.” He whispered to the little girl. “I can even make it into a game.” He said. Again, the girl didn’t seem all that excited or won over, but she did seem curious. He moved to stand, taking the little girl with him, letting her sit on his hip. He had to admit that he was rather proud of himself for remembering how to carry a child, it had been at least two hundred years after all. He smiled a little, gently bouncing her to keep her entertained, and it finally earned a little bit of a smile from her.

“We’re going to have so much fun together, Jenny. You and your uncle Caine.” He said to the child, as the two of them disappeared in a whirl of pink smoke.


	5. Enemies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quarantine's been rough, man, hasn't it? There's definitely some mental thing going on, because even though I'm fine, and I know I'm fine, and I'm an introvert anyways... there's something that's making me feel like I'm losing my mind. If that's going on with all of you, let me know. In the meantime, between homework and my own insecurities I got this chapter done, and I hope it helps keep you guys entertained.
> 
> Sorry for how long it's been but I really, really wanted this chapter to be good. Or, at least decent, so I spent some extra time on it. This scene has, no joke, been on my mind for at least eight months. It's so cathartic to FINALLY get it out there, even though, yeah, I'm always nervous to hear what people think of my stories. So I hope this is good.

So the vampire could hit hard. Milo couldn’t say that he expected that. He was ashamed to say now that he’d never paid much attention to Virgil,before the man turned. He knew he was a hunter, if not a terribly good one. He had heard he was a preschool teacher, a fact that was at odds with his other profession. He was good friends with Mark, and although he’d had his suspicions that what was between them burned a bit more brightly than simple platonic affection, he’d never suspected either of them to want to act on it, especially not Mark.

Apparently the hunter had a killer swing. His fist connected with his jaw with devastating force, and if Milo hadn’t been Milo it might have left him with broken bones. His back landed in the snow, sending up a small flurry in his wake. The vampire was standing over him, staring down with burning hatred in his eyes. He shook out his fist and glowered down at him. “Stay the fuck away from Mark.” Virgil told him simply.

He then began to turn to walk away.

Milo stared, momentarily stunned at the absolute, unmitigated gall. Milo pressed his hands into the snowdrift, gathering his legs beneath him and pushing himself to his feet. He felt something damp dripping down his chin, and he brushed the back of his hand along his mouth, and was surprised to see his hand come back bloody. Fuck, he couldn’t remember the last time someone had hurt him to the point where he was actually  _ bleeding _ . “Excuse me?” he demanded. He glanced to his side to see Damien and Carly staring at him, and even they looked stunned. 

“What, did I stutter?” Virgil asked, whipping back around. “I meant it. Stay away from Mark. You’re toxic.” He said. Milo tipped his head to the side. He was pretty damned sure he was not in the wrong here. After all, he wasn’t keeping the man isolated from the world… from his child.

“ _ You _ kidnapped him!” Milo said. “ _ I’m _ coming to take him home. I’m his husband. His family, Not you!” Milo sputtered a moment. “Did the world go nuts in the fifteen seconds since I hit the ground? I’m not staying away from him. I’m rescuing him from  _ you _ !”

He didn’t know what he was expecting. But it certainly wasn’t Virgil rolling his eyes at him. This little punk piece of shit vampire thought he could roll his eyes at  _ him _ ?! He was a god. People, mere humans like this brat once was worshiped him for centuries! His family was revered, and this childe who had not lived so much as a single  _ lifetime  _ had the nerve to roll his at him, like he was being scolded by a parent!?

It was too much.

“Get on your knees.” Milo demanded. 

“What?” Virgil asked, taken off-guard by the strange demand.

Milo was crouching low, voice dangerous. “Get on your knees, and beg for my forgiveness.” He said again. 

Virgil tipped his chin up, proudly, whether he realized it or not. “I will never bow to someone like you.” 

In a flash, Milo moved, cracking his fist straight across Virgil's jaw.

From that point it was on.

~~

"Virgil!" Carly shouted, immediately trying to go to Virgil and defend the vampire, but Damien was quick to catch her arm and tug her back, away from the danger. 

"No no no." Damien gently scolded. Griever stood guard at Carly’s other side, his body pressing against her legs, further keeping her from running between them and possibly getting herself hurt. "Let them fight it out for a minute." He said. "Hell, maybe that's what we should have let them do all along." He added, as he gently released Carly’s arm.

“Are you kidding me?” Carly demanded. Despite her words she reached down to comfort the giant wolf. “Are you really just going to let Virgil get hurt-”

“No, he’s my apprentice!” Damien sighed, tossing his hands in the air in an exaggerated shrug.. “I’m not going to let him grievously hurt my apprentice. Virgil’s gonna be fine. But they’re both guys, and sometimes you have to stand back and let them both wail on each other. Let their hormones do the talking because we collectively suck at emotions. But never mind them for a minute. You and I need to talk.” 

“I don’t want to talk. I’m mad at you.” Carly replied rather childishly, crossing her arms over her chest. “You betrayed my trust!” 

“What, by going to Milo and telling him what the hell is going on with his missing husband?” Damien asked. “Technically, I didn’t even give him the full story, because I don’t know it. Him and his nosy sister figured out most of it. What exactly is wrong with what I did?” 

“You know the second that Mark sees that man he’s going to go running back to his abuser-”

“Okay, well, he’s an adult, that’s his choice!” Damien said. “It’s none of our business what he does, who he wants to spend his life with, even if you don’t think it’s the best choice for him.”

“And where does that leave Virgil?” Carly demanded. “What, sad and alone? Forgotten? When Milo fucking beats Mark to death you expect Virgil to just be there to pick up the pieces of his heart?” Carly asked. “You know what that would do to him?”

“I don’t think it would get that serious. Kasmilos isn’t… I mean there’s a lot I don’t know about him… but I can’t see him doing that to Mark.” Damien told her firmly, and frowned when she shook her head. “Look, whatever happens between them,between Mark and Kasmilos, between Mark and Virgil… you have to let it happen naturally. Mark might decide that his relationship with Milo is unfulfilling, and leave on his own. Then he’ll need Virgil for the emotional support. It doesn’t have to be as dire as you’re making it!” 

“Oh, I’m sorry that you don’t think that sort of thing is dire. Abuse isn’t that big of a deal to you, I suppose.” Carly rolled her eyes at him.

“That’s not what I’m saying-” Damien began to protest, but she cut him off pretty quickly. 

“How about that whole trust issue? How dire do you think that is? If I can’t trust you to keep a secret?” She asked.

“Okay, well it’s not like I meant to spill that secret. I just… Kasmilos’ my friend, I had to see what the deal was. Who’s gonna keep the man in check if not for his best friend?” he asked. 

“I don’t care about that.” She snapped. “Are you honestly going to tell me that you’re going to put ‘the boys’ before me?” Carly asked, suspiciously. “When  _ we  _ are the ones in a relationship? Last I checked, you’re not doing Milo.” She said, leveling him with a pointed look. “Are you?” 

“No!” Damien denied right away. 

“Then you should have listened to me, done what I asked, and just come to Michigan! You could have seen things for yourself. Mark was never in any danger with us. I was helping Virgil with his issues, and I was working with Mark through his.” Carly said. “ _ You _ really hurt me. God, and when Nic showed up it was like a sign. He has always dropped everything for me, and you know what happened when he swooped in today? He took care of me and took care of Mark without question.” She paused, thinking it over. 

Damien sighed. “Wait, there’s that name again. Who the fuck is Nic?” He demanded again. “You told me that Virgil was your only ex.” He said. 

“Yes.” Carly said. “Virgil’s the only ex I’ve ever had in L.A. You never asked me about Michigan.”

“Okay, that’s bullshit, and you know it. When I’m asking about your past, I’m asking about everything. I told you everything about my past, and you know how foggy that’s gotten over the past four hundred years? You still give me crap about the women I slept with hundreds of years before you were  _ born _ .” He pointed out.

“Agatha was a hussy and you should have known better.” Carly argued.

“Well you’re not wrong, but why do I get held to the standard of behaving myself before the rules are even established, but it’s okay for you to hide your ex’s from me?” Damien demanded.

“For your information, Nic is an amazingly patient, sweet, adorable man, who has literally always been there for me. Even when we were strangers and he didn’t owe me anything!” Carly defended him. “Unlike you, who has been trying to date me for years, and yet when given the chance, you sell me and my baby Virgil out to your bro!” Carly stated. 

“For the last time, I didn’t sell you out!” Damien said. “Listen to me. There has to be a way to figure this out, for all of us, for Kasmilos and Virgil, for you and me, without the all of us killing each other!” Damien decided. 

Right then, Virgil took a hit that was so hard that he came careening backwards, cutting through the air and hitting Damien square in the back. Damien pitched forward, and if he hadn’t stuck his heels into the ground and braced himself, he would have been thrown into Carly. He came so close to pitching into her that Carly squeaked and took a protective few steps back behind Griever. Hell, even the wolf looked surprised, as much as one could look for a wolf. That had  _ fucking hurt _ . Damien grunted as he placed a supportive hand against his spine and grudgingly turned around. Virgil was struggling to get up, but he looked dazed, like Milo had seriously wrecked something on him. And as Damien raised his head to look at Kasmilos, he saw the man beginning to gather his power for a strike, the fact that he and Carly and Griever were also in the path of his rage didn’t seem to matter to him then. 

“The fuck are you doing!?” Damien demanded, as he moved to help Virgil to his feet, taking his arm and hauling him quickly upright. He glanced over to see Kasmilos approach, and he wisely decided to tug Virgil behind him. He couldn’t remember the last time Kasmilos looked so angry, and he didn’t think he’d ever seen him trade his oft cool demeanor to look so… unhinged.

“I’m going to remove that little thorn in my side once and for all!” Milo rumbled dangerously. “Get out of my way or drown with him.” Kasmilos said, swiping his hand in front of him. Damien was stunned to be dismissed by him so quickly. Hell, Kasmilos had never talked to him like that. And frankly, Damien didn’t care for the precedent that was being set. Since when did the godling think he could order him around like that?   
  
Further than that though, he could tell Kasmilos’ intentions, without him saying them. He was intending to kill Virgil. 

“Kasmilos, knock it off.” Damien warned him, as Carly moved to Virgil’s side, checking him over. Virgil seemed winded, which, considering he’d just gone toe to toe with a god was pretty good, actually. The fact that he was still standing on his own was impressive. “You’ve made your point. Now we need to stop and talk this out.” He said, giving Milo a pointed look. “Come on. Don’t do something you’ll regret.” 

“Excuse me?” Milo demanded, as he rounded on Damien. “You  _ know  _ what he did!” 

“Yeah, okay, he took Mark, but Virgil’s a puppy, he didn’t hurt him.” He paused, glancing to Virgil. “Right?” He asked, motioning to the other man to speak up. Virgil seemed reluctant to answer, which again was understandable. But Damien was trying to get the god to come down. He snapped a few times at Virgil like he was trying to wake him up, and finally the young man deigned to chime in.

“I would never!” Virgil said, pulling away from Carly like he was ready to get back into it with Milo. But he also seemed hesitant, probably waiting to see if Damien could calm the god. Honestly, to Damien, that was a good sign. It meant he was dealing with an, at least partially non-feral baby vampire right then. It was a testament to Carly’s good work that he was able to demonstrate good judgement right then. He’d clearly ben working on it, but the one thing he just couldn’t give up yet was Mark.

Again, understandable.

“See, he would never.” Damien quoted the vampire word for word. “So pull your panties out of your crack and let’s talk about this like adults."

The look on Milo’s face grew darker.

"I have nothing to say to the vampire-"

"My apprentice, who I have grown incredibly close too." Damien corrected. "I would have to, to take him on as my legacy, to teach him everything I know. Whom I care very deeply about. In case you have forgotten." He said. It was a veiled warning to the god. Kasmilos was his friend. But he wasn’t going to tolerate any of the man’s hissy fits being targeted towards his student.

The god actually took a step back, as if stunned by his words. "Who kidnapped my husband." Kasmilos reminded him, and Damien recognized the sting of betrayal crossing his face. "Damien, you and I, have had each other's backs for nearly 500 years now." He said. "Are you going to dismiss all of that for a tarted up goth and a vampiric whelp?" Kasmilos asked.

"Kasmilos?" Damien asked him quietly. He knew with his words he would be drawing a line in the sand. But it had to be done. He had to end this. “Do not force me to pick sides. You would not like the outcome.” 

There was a look of genuine hurt that flashed quickly across his face, but it was gone before Damien had time to process it. It was quickly replaced with one of white hot rage.

"I'm gonna kick your ass." Kasmilos growled. 

Behind him, Damien heard Virgil gasp, Carly shriek, and Griever whine. As Damien turned to see what the fuss was about, he saw large pillars of ice, coming from the ground and forming around them. Almost like Kasmilos was erecting a giant cage match for them to fight to the death in. 

Damien was graced with an unpleasant realization at the display. Water, in its solid form, was ice. The three of them were standing up to their ankles in the god’s chosen weapon. In Michigan. The Great Lakes state. There was water  _ everywhere _ .

This fight was gonna suck.

Damien summoned his cane, whipping it around in a circle and holding it protectively in front of his crew. The woman he loved. The man he’d taken in and treated as a son. His familiar, anticipating his master’s movements, began to growl, following his lead. He tossed his head back, long black hair flowing in the wind behind him, and let out a snarl. 

"You can try." Damien replied.

~~

Mark woke up screaming. The pain in his side was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, and his first instinct was to hit whoever was prodding it. His fist connected solidly with someone’s jaw. He heard a loud crack and someone grunting in pain..

“Son of a…”

“I’ll hold him down.” 

Mark heard that and his heart stuttered. “No!” He screamed out, when he felt someone suddenly on top of him, pressing him hard into the ground beneath him. Grass. Not snow. Not icy concrete. It was foreign, unfamiliar, if only because he knew where he was last wasn’t here..  _ Where was he _ ? He was cold, so cold he felt it to his bones. Now someone was pressing his wrists into the ground and that searching hand was at his side again. He felt something press into his stomach, past his skin and flesh, with something long and thin and metallic. Then his world erupted into blazing hot pain. His whole body began to shiver uncontrollably, and he kicked his legs out wildly in a feeble attempt to resist. His ears began to ring, and the sound of it drowned out his entire world into blissful nothing.

It didn’t last nearly long enough. “Ueeehhhh I got it!” Mark heard someone shout.

The world faded back in slowly, and Mark went limp as all the tension he’d retained drained out of him. Mark could hear people talking near to him, but they seemed so far away. Much more gently than before, he could feel someone tending to him. The pain in his side was less pronounced now. It still tingled with cold, but he felt much more numb. 

"If I don't fix it, he'll bleed out." Mark heard someone say. That voice sounded familiar, though he couldn’t quite place where he’d heard it before.

"If he was gonna bleed out, he'd have done it already." He heard someone answer coldly in response. "There's  _ something _ keeping him alive." 

Mark began blinking furiously, trying to at least get his eyes back to working order again. Why the hell could he hear them, but he still couldn't see? His vision was completely white, with the occasional gray shadow flicking across his retinas. 

"Do you think he isn't human?" One of the voices asked.

"No. He's human." The other man replied. "He's just made an awful lot of bad decisions in his life."

Mark was going to have to use that one for his autobiography. 

"We know you're awake." The grizzled voice announced, and it took Mark a second to realize that statement was being directed towards him. 

"I can't see." Mark complained. He could vaguely feel someone close by, hands moving over his side. He thought maybe someone was bandaging his injury? Which naturally reminded him.  _ Oh yeah. I’ve been shot. _

"It'll come back. Don't be afraid." Another voice piped up. “Just give it some time.” 

Mark bit his bottom lip as he felt whoever it was finish up with his side and pull his shirt back down. With the warmth generated just by having his own clothes affixed to their proper position, he finally began to relax a little. His vision slowly went from blinding white to grey, to some strange, blurring images, the two men beside him appearing before him in alien grey until his vision was fully restored. He immediately wished it hadn’t. He didn’t see Virgil. He didn’t see Nic, or even Carly hovering over him. It was Morgan, and the fucked up asshole who had shot him, Virgil’s dad.

What in the hell happened after he passed out? Mark tried to sit up a little, just to take in his surroundings, but the movement was futile and he quickly fell back to the ground. He felt weighed down from his weakness. He could see around him, though, sort of. They were still kind of out there, in the middle of nowhere, so far as he could tell. In the woods now, surrounded by thick foliage. The two men had cleared away the snow, set up a couple of rain-proof tents, and between them was an admittedly nice campfire. The radiating warmth felt good, even if it wasn’t quite enough to take away the chill. In the distance, Mark thought he could just make out a large, empty, snow covered field, just beyond the coverage of the trees.

"What happened? Where's Nic?" Mark asked, between heavy pants. His lungs fucking ached. He had no idea what happened. Maybe that gunshot had been worse than he’d thought. Why the hell was he alive? He was supposedly immortal these days, but not, he thought, invincible. 

"Left him in his car." Morgan said. "With the heater on. He'll be fine when he wakes up." 

"Maybe." Isaiah gruffly tagged on. His inflection gave away nothing, Mark noted. As if he didn't care whether his own, living, human brother lived or died. It was obscene, and Mark wasn’t about to let it go.

"How could you try to shoot him?" Mark demanded then. "I'd understand, if not very well, if he was one of those so called monsters, but he was just looking out for Virgil. Your son." Mark said pointedly.

"Formerly my son." Isaiah corrected him. 

"I don't care what you think about his current state, he’s still your child. Your  _ child _ ." Mark practically spit. Mark had a child, the most precocious kid he’d ever met, and the very thought of raising his hand against her gutted him. Hell, she never even really got spanked, not that she needed him to. So the way Isaiah was acting was absolutely alien to him.

"And…" Isaiah continued, despite Mark’s outburst. "I wasn't really trying to shoot anyone. I was going to pistol whip him, and my finger slipped on the trigger." 

"That's the stupidest…" Mark sputtered. "I thought you were an expert!"

"I am a master hunter." Isaiah interrupted again. "What you would call ‘old school.’ But sometimes when it comes to family." He shrugged. "It makes you stupid." 

"Apparently, look what’s done to you." Mark replied, fuming. He couldn’t tolerate either of them right then, and even though Morgan didn’t seem quite as sure as his father, he wasn’t doing anything to stop him, either, and to Mark that was completely unethical. The adrenaline kick he got from his anger flooded him so that a little of his energy returned, and he pushed himself into a seated position. In his experience, it was harder to have an argument when you were laying flat on your back. "Well what's the plan now,  _ master  _ hunters?" 

"We're gonna use you to draw Virgil out." Morgan replied very matter of factly. 

"Ah. Great." Mark replied, rolling his eyes. Yeah, he’d heard that song and dance before. "You guys know I basically get kidnapped once a year, right?" He asked. "You ought to know that this cute little plan is really not gonna work out in your favor." 

"Oh, don’t be so quick to dismiss us. We didn't get this far in the business for nothing." Morgan said. "The Warren family has an old trick."

"Call it a trade secret." Isaiah replied. "Been in the family for generations." 

"It's why we've had such success at hunting vampires." Morgan added, looking rather proud of himself and his dad right then. Mark didn’t find it so cute.

"Well, wouldn't Virgil know it too?" Mark logically asked. 

Morgan straight snickered at that. Even Isaiah, who Mark was half convinced was more machine than man, looked amused. 

"Virgil wasn't the best study." Morgan answered.

"It's a damned shame. He had such potential." Isaiah replied, and there was a touch of something in the old man’s tone. Something that Mark could have almost mistaken for a human emotion, if he’d thought him capable of that. "If he'd paid better attention growing up, he might not have been turned." 

"We're just gonna tell him we have you and…" Morgan began to explain, before his voice trailed off unnecessarily.

Isaiah glanced at Mark. "He has two hours from that point." He said.

"Or what?" Mark asked. Isaiah was quiet for a moment, for so long that he figured the man hadn’t deemed him worthy of an answer. As he watched Isaiah reach for his hip holster and withdrew his weapon, and as Mark examined it, he realized it was a much older weapon than he’d thought. A Colt Single Action Army. The wooden handle had something in golden letter emblazoned across it, but he was seated too far away to see. Isaiah locked eyes with him as he carefully ran his fingers over the chamber, before spinning the cartridge in a flippant manner. A feeling of unease settled over Mark before the old man could even answer him.

"Or I put a hole in you that you won't find so easy to recover from."

Mark glared defiantly at the other man determined not to flinch away from the barrel of that gun, fully expecting it to be leveled right at him. But before the man could get any bright ideas, Morgan placed a steady hand against his father’s wrist. 

"Dad, you shouldn't…" the younger man gently scolded, shaking his head. "You've already had one accident with that thing today, let's not have another." 

Morgan didn't relax until Isaiah sheathed his weapon. 

“This is sickening.” Mark replied. “You want him dead so badly that you’d kill me, a total stranger? Your own son.” He demanded. “Your brother.” He said, shooting a glare at Morgan.

"No one's killing anyone that isn’t already dead." Morgan interrupted, shooting a glare at his father. “Right, dad?”

Mark was sensing dissension in the ranks, a disagreement between the two. And it was only begrudgingly that Isaiah gave his reply. 

“Right. No one.” Isaiah agreed, but honestly, there was no way in hell that Mark bought into that tone. It was sounding like Isaiah was agreeing just to shut Morgan up. 

Mark wondered what that was about. "It's just to motivate him. Get him to come down here. Believe me, I don't want my brother dead. But the fact of the matter is, he already is." Morgan explained. "Vampires live a tortured existence. It's nothing like what those cheesy romance novels would have you believing. Why would I want that for him? They will always have that need, that craving for human prey. The urge to kill, that desperate need for blood. It can never be satiated. They seek out innocent people…"

“Your brother was doing fine with me.” Mark insisted, specifically to Morgan. He wasn’t sure why. It just seemed like maybe he would be the more reasonable of the two. 

"They are a scourge on humanity. A sickness that can only be wiped out, with extreme force." Isaiah continued. 

"You say all that." Mark replied skeptically. "But I've lived with Virgil for eight months. For the most part, most of his blood supply, he's got from me." He said. "I'm still here. I'm not dead. Virgil hasn't hurt anyone, except for some hunter who was looking for trouble. I’m there…” Mark paused, glancing to the side for a moment, before finally deciding to just go with the truth. “Mostly of my own free will. So long as no one’s playing dumb games and getting themselves hurt in this, what do you care what he does?” Mark demanded. “Just go your separate ways and leave him alone.” 

“Look, you can build whatever idyllic dream life for the two of you that you want. You can justify things however you’d like. But the thing that you can’t ever change, is he’s a vampire now. There’s no coming back from that. If he doesn’t kill you, he almost certainly will kill someone else.” Virgil’s dad said, firmly. “It’s not just stupid, it’s immoral to let him live.” 

“Look. What if he gets a hold of an innocent?” Morgan asked. “A child?”

That one hit particularly close to Mark. After all, he had a child. A child that he hadn’t seen in eight months, because of Virgil. But Mark trusted Virgil implicitly with his daughter. Hell, Virgil  _ loved  _ kids. He couldn’t imagine Virgil hurting a child, especially now that he had this vampire thing more under control. 

Realizing that he needed to take up a different tack if he was going to sway any minds, Mark decided to try something else. He let the first conversation play out with his silence, before he tried again. Looking to Morgan specifically, he asked: “He’s your brother, right?” Mark asked. 

Morgan raised an eyebrow at that, but eventually he nodded. “Yeah. Thought that was obvious.” 

“What was he like? Growing up? As a kid.” It was something Mark was honestly curious about. The man was so softly spoken and patient. Naive. He sadly didn’t know a lot of people who were still like that, in a time when social media dictated that everyone put on as if they had a loud, firey personality to get noticed. But then. Virgil never spent much time on the internet either. 

Morgan laughed a bit at the question. He didn’t answer right away, and for a moment, Mark believed that he’d decided to keep his silence. But just when Mark was ready to give up and concentrate on the fire instead, Morgan spoke up. “He was a dreamer.” 

“Idealist?” Mark asked with a relieved smile. That made sense to him. Virgil loved to read, just about anything he could get his hands on. History, mythologies, philosophy. He loved all things vintage, admiring the aesthetic without actually wanting to be transported to those times. One of those people who felt reading from an electronic device desecrated the experience of reading a book. In that way Virgil had a very sharp mind, and Mark supposed that a life-time of losing oneself to fairytales and happy endings is what made him so very justice-minded. “I can see it.”

Mark glanced to Virgil’s dad for a second, to see if he had anything to add to this conversation, in protest or not, but the old man didn’t seem to care. He was as cold and stoic as a rock. 

“Oh, absolutely.” Morgan said, smiling a bit. “Growing up I used to tease him because he never wanted to participate in whatever we were doing, me and the old man. He had his books, his music, and it was a struggle to get him to put them down.” He said. “So he wasn’t particularly good company during the hunts, but just about anything else, he was good with. Math, sciences. He knew little bit about everything.” 

Morgan thought about it for a moment and snapped his fingers. “He’s like… an catalogue of information about vintage tv. He could recall obscure facts like he had an index about it in his mind. He could just flip through it and recall just about anything.” Morgan chuckled. “He loved… what’s that show….?”

“Twilight Zone.” Mark laughed a little. “I made the mistake of asking him one time what he thought about the Guardians of the Galaxy ride at Disneyland once, and set him off on this whole tangent.” 

“I’ll bet it did.” Morgan laughed, and Mark couldn’t help feeling very at ease with the elder Warren brother right then. This wasn’t the same man arguing with him earlier. This was a man fondly remembering the brother he had lost. “You took him to Disneyland?”

“I went with him, once. My daughter, she…” Mark paused, and felt his soul sink a little at the memory. “She’d been excited to go, and Milo- he’s my husband, he had no interest. I didn’t really wanna take her by myself.” Mark shrugged. “That’s the thing about Virgil. Whenever I needed him for something… he was Johnny on the Spot.” He said. “Always there, just because I asked. Didn’t matter what he was doing. He was there for me without fail.” Mark admitted.

There weren’t a lot of people in Mark’s life who were like that. Yes, he had a number of good friends, and they were incredibly supportive, probably more than he deserved. But even they had their own issues. Families. Lives. Virgil just took care of him. 

“Yeah.” Morgan said, voice quiet, as if he could sense what Mark was thinking. If he knew his brother at all, he likely did. “Good man. Just like…” at this point, Virgil’s brother glanced over at his father, who had absolutely no reaction to any of this. The man just kept his gaze at the weapon in his hands, fingers playing absently over the chamber, as if in a daze. For the first time, Mark noticed how deflated Morgan was by his father. “Just like dad raised him to be.” he finally finished his sentence.

Isaiah said nothing. 

In that moment, Mark had a hard time believing that the warm, gentle man that he had grown to care for could come from such a cold, unapproachable man as Isaiah. 

“You seem like you loved your brother.” Mark said softly, but pointedly, to Morgan. ‘How did you guys fall out so hard?”    
  


“Morgan…” Isaiah said warningly, the first time he’d bother to speak up since threatening him, Mark noticed. He seemed to be trying and stop him from answering Mark’s question, but Morgan shot him a look. 

“It won’t hurt anything.” Morgan scolded the old man. He turned back to Mark, who was quietly grateful. He was beginning to think that the only way out of this situation was going to be by communicating with the two of them. Or the one of them, at least. “There was this girl.” 

“Ah.” Mark replied softly. “I think I know where this is headed.”

“Yeah…” Morgan trailed off a bit thoughtfully. “She was just a friend though. They weren’t like, together.” He said to Mark, like he expected him to be jealous. “If you were worried.” 

“Oh trust me, I know your brother. I was not.” Mark grinned a little. 

“Heh, yeah.” Morgan laughed too. “Me and dad knew before he did. It wasn’t a problem for me.” Morgan said, which suggested to Mark that maybe it had been a problem for Isaiah. But again, the old man offered nothing. “But anyways.” Morgan settled in for a long story. “He was a baby boy senior in high school, right on the precipice of becoming a man. And I remember that this was right before I spent the fall as an exchange student in Tuscany.” Morgan said, his head tipped to the side in thought. “So I was getting ready for that, and he was looking at all these different colleges, and Dad asked us to go on one last hunt together as a family.” Morgan said, the corners of his mouth turned up in a bit of a smile. “Dad and I were setting up camp for the night, and Virgil was already in the tent. Claimed he had a lot of homework, but we both knew he didn’t give a fuck about the hunts. It was his signature cop out. So while he was ‘doing his homework,’” Morgan said, raising his hands up to his head so that he could make the finger quotes, “Me and dad went out looking for the baby vamp that had been spotted in the area. Set up a few traps. You know. The uzhe. This was supposed to be just another easy hunt. And while dad and I were off searching the woods, ‘she’ came by the camp.” 

“The baby vamp.” Mark realized. He sort of wanted to ask about the traps, as that seemed pertinent to Virgil’s imminent survival, but Morgan went on without giving him the chance. 

“I can’t remember her name. It was like… Linda, maybe. He was friends with her at his school.” Morgan explained. “She went to some parentless weekend graduation party and everyone was getting lit, if you know what I mean. Really drunk. Really high. Experimenting with drugs, and someone handed her a dirty needle.” Morgan shrugged. “She went missing, but no one really questioned it. She had a history of running off, so her parents just assumed that that was what she’d done, and no one really questioned her not coming home. Well, after she woke up, she was obviously not human anymore...”

“Shit.” Mark hissed. “That makes vampirism sound like… some kind of weird transmittable disease.” Mark replied with a grimace, thinking of just how awful that would have been. And he’d been to a couple of those kinds of parties himself in college. He drank a lot back then, but that was pretty much it, and he was privately grateful he’d never accepted any of the shit that had been offered to him back then. “And she just woke up like that?” He asked.

“Yeah.” Morgan said. “She naturally lost her shit and killed everyone else who’d been in attendance at that party.” Morgan told him. “Me and dad came across that cabin, and it was horrific.” he said. “I don’t know how she got enough blood in her to actually sustain her, most of it was sprawled across the cabin walls. The floors. Everywhere. And the vampire who turned her? His ass was long gone. He abandoned her.” Morgan shook his head. “At that point we remembered that Virgil was alone back at the camp and that this wasn’t an under control, has-his-shit-together elder vampire. It was an unhinged childe of the night.” Morgan said. 

“And Virgil was the lone virgin in the woods.” Mark realized. 

“Exactly.” Morgan said. “Me and dad raced back to the camp, but when we got there, Virgil and the girl were both just sitting by the campfire. Shooting the shit. Like there was nothing wrong. He was talking to her like she wasn’t a vampire, covered head to toe in gore. And I mean she was dripping. There were so many droplets coming off of her it could have made a pool of blood under her.” He said. “But before either of them could say anything to us…” 

“I took her out.” Isaiah said the first thing he’d said in the past five minutes or so. “He doesn’t need the gory details.” 

Trade secret. Mark thought to himself. He didn’t want Mark to know so that he could help Virgil… whenever Virgil showed up to save him, and Morgan’s eyes widened a bit when he seemed to realize and catch himself. Morgan shook it off pretty fast though, and continued his story.

“Anyways, Virgil was a little traumatized. Which, I suppose that’s understandable. She was a good friend of his, despite her questionable life choices.” Morgan replied with a shrug. “But he completely shut down after that. After his initial blow up, which, you know, he was covered in her blood, I can only assume that was warranted… he never spoke to me or dad after that. For the rest of that year.” Morgan explained. “He would wake up, do his chores, go to school, come home, go straight to bed. He did that until he turned 18 and then…” Morgan shrugged. “He packed his bags and walked out the door. We found out a while later that he went from friend's house to friend’s house, doing odd jobs until he had saved himself enough money and left the state entirely. We heard nothing out of him until he settled in California.” Morgan explained.

“And the only reason for that was because I was his emergency contact, when he ended up in the hospital.” Virgil’s dad put in.

Mark ws momentarily stunned. The old man had been absolutely quiet since they started. Why would that be the thing to make him chime in? “That’s… weird.” Mark said, though he felt odd and strangely uninvited to be speaking to the old man. “That he would still have you listed as his contact, after all of that.”

“I think he didn’t want to be cut off completely.” Morgan said. “Family is complicated, you know? Even after everything, he still couldn’t completely drop that connection.” 

Suddenly, cutting through the silence of the woods around them, an oddly electronic rendition of Hotel California interrupted them. Virgil’s dad glanced down at his jacket pocket, before he fished out his cell phone and answered.

“Nicolas?” Isaiah said. “Yeah, I’ve been waiting for your call…” 

~~

The irony of all this was that if Damien was retelling this story to Milo about him fighting some kind of pissed off ice giant and getting thrown clear into the center of a four foot thick block of ice hard enough to shatter it, Milo would be laughing his ass off. Damien grumbled, as he slowly pushed himself up off of the ground, feeling every bit of the old man Kasmilos liked to accuse him of being. (Which was still bullshit, by the way.) As he got himself into a sitting position he was able to see Virgil slotting into place in front of him, taking up the fight against the other god once more, so that Damien could recover and take a moment to consider his options. He wasn’t terribly worried for Virgil, due to the spell he’d cast on the man a few years back that protected him from taking much divine damage. But that sure didn’t mean that Kasmilos, when pushed, wouldn’t have a way to hurt him. The god was creative like that. 

Damien whistled, summoning Griever to his side. The wolf trudged over begrudgingly, seeming to be more concerned about what Carly and Virgil were doing than attending to his own master’s needs, which he couldn’t blame him for. The wolf was an extension of himself, after all. 

Damien watched as the two men exchanged blows, until Kasmilos took a step back and raised up the snow around Virgil’s legs, encasing his lower body and freezing solid, effectively sticking the young man to the ground. Virgil grit his teeth and struggled against the ice, but he couldn’t move. Griever began to growl beside him and Damien tensed for a moment, but before Kasmilos could get in his cheap shot at the vampire’s neck, Carly cut him off, ducking in front of Virgil and using her blessed dagger to push Kasmilos back.

Carly, Damien was much more concerned for. She was just an unpowered human, like Mark, only he had that whole immortality spell thing going for him. Carly didn’t even have that, though he’d begged her to let him make her immortal. To her that seemed like a commitment, and yes, the reason he wanted to make her immortal was because he wanted a future with her, something beyond the short 80 years most humans had. 

But all of his worry for her was misplaced. It was easy for him to forget sometimes, since he didn’t often have to see her brawling, but Carly was well-trained. With her dagger in hand, she threw a blow at Milo, which he blocked by grabbing her wrist. She looked surprised, but only for a moment, as she dropped her weapon into her other hand, and slashed out at him with her non-dominant arm. Naturally Kasmilos caught that arm with his other hand. With both of her arms caught, Carly tugged against that restrictive hold, looking up at him as though she were surprised, and confused, bordering on scared. Kasmilos didn’t know her like Damien did, and he knew it was all an act. She used it to distract Kasmilos for a moment, letting him feel superior, as she shifted her weight into a better position. Then, she stepped back and drove a steel-pointed boot right into Kasmilos’ crotch. 

Damien couldn’t help the flinch, it was automatic. Suddenly Kasmilos was on his back, cupping the goods while Carly brandished her dagger, swinging it downwards at the man’s neck. But at the moment when that gnarled blade should have connected, she only brought it down onto exposed ice. Damien smelt the tang of salt in the air as Kasmilos vanished into the snow beneath him. 

“Carly.” He called out, as he slowly pushed himself to his feet. He dusted the snow still clinging to his pants, before pointing at his pupil still trapped in ice. “Help Virgil.” he said.

Carly glared at him. “I’m gonna take care of the prick-”

“Griever.” Damien interrupted and called the wolf, and immediately, the wolf’s fur stood up, bristling. Yellow eyes faded to red, and the already large wolf seemed to grow, muscle growing taught and snapping so that it could form new; joints popping loudly as bone shattered and reformed, it’s body rearranged as a much bigger animal, with jaws that could easily fit around a human’s torso. As the wolf towered above him so did the very ground beneath all of them begin to groan and rumble. Damien cracked his neck as he began to feel out his power.

“No.” Damien corrected. “ _ I’m  _ gonna take care of the prick.” 

Seeming to wordlessly understand, Carly fell back, rushing to Virgil’s side as the man abruptly tumbled to the snow covered ground. It seemed like the earth shifting beneath them had caused the ice holding Virgil to crack. 

There was a loud snapping sound in the distance, that caused the snow to fall from the branches to the ground. Damien smirked a little as Griever bristled angrily, his low growl now bordering on a roar. When Kasmilos emerged again he didn’t look anything even resembling a human. He looked like a monster, a bizarre mix of his human and mermaid forms, a Medusa-like gorgon, with shining black scales and long, twisting tentacles. His skin, or what remained of it, was an ashen grey, and his eyes were a sharp and sickening yellow. Kasmilos’ mouth opened to reveal serrated, shark-like teeth, and as he grinned at him, Damien knew that he was in for one hell of a fight.

Damien summoned his cane, twirled it, and pointed it in Kasmilos’ direction. “Griever.” He commanded the creature. “Vernichten.” 

With a howl, the monstrous wolf tore forward, tossing snow into the air behind him. Griever darted forward, until the wolf’s huge, snapping jaws were now large enough to swallow Kasmilo’s head. Damien watched as the snow moved along the god’s body, whirling about him until it reached Kasmilos’ clawed hands, where there grew a spear made of ice. Griever’s jaws snapped down on the icy shaft. As Kasmilos struggled with the beast for control of his weapon, Damien raked over the earth with his power.

It was a bit of a misnomer that Hell was filled with flame. While Hellfire was very much a thing that exists, it takes a tremendous amount of energy to wield. Most of Hell was rocky, barren. Lifeless, twisted, jagged pillars of granite and obsidian, cutting through the landscape, ready to harm some wandering soul not taking care. As Kasmilos fought Griever, Damien brought Hell’s pillars to the surface, jutting out of the land like cancerous growths, one after the other. Just as Kasmilos was able to yank his weapon out of the beast’s jaws he had to move, ducking from side to side to keep himself from becoming impaled as Damien summoned the pillars like uplifted plutons purely from Damien’s rage. 

Once Kasmilos was in the clear, he began a return volley. Angry shards of ice formed in front of the man, and aimed with deadly intent towards Damien’s chest. As they rocketed towards him, Damien pulled up his cane, using it to deflect the shards with a circular flourish. As he was deflecting those shards, one by one, the god charged towards him.

“Damien!” Carly tried to call his attention to some unnoticed danger. 

Damien glanced behind himself and finally noticed thesharp, icy pikes that had quietly sprung up behind him, and realized Kasmilos preparing to push him onto them. 

That was gonna hurt like a bitch.

Though it always winded him to do, Damien cast a teleportation spell, letting his magic swirl around him. When he reappeared he was standing behind Kasmilos, watching as the god came to a screeching stop just to keep himself from falling on his own trap. Damien shoved the god forward, forcing Kasmilos to land on top of them. The god yelped as he was impaled, but Damien knew that wouldn’t be enough to stop him. With a cry of outrage, the god struggled to push himself from the ground.

As Damien tensed for another round, Virgil ran towards him, taking his arm and drawing him backwards. Carly was close to his side, with Griever now standing protectively beside her. “We need to end this!” The vampire called to him. 

"Good idea." Damien called back half-sarcastically, as he shook his arm out of Virgil’s grasp. "How?"

Suddenly, an opportunity. Everything came to a halt as the sound of gunfire rippled through the air, two guns aimed upwards in a commanding ceasefire.

Kasmilos glanced in the direction of its source. "Cersa…"

"Carly…" Damien reached out and silently took Carly’s hand. Whatever happened next, he wanted her close by. If in the end all he could do was send her far from the fight, that was what he wanted to do. Carly neither offered him the appendage, but she didn’t rip herself away, either.

The purple and teal haired girl slid across bared ice in her boots, tank top and booty shorts (like she wasn’t even cold?), to stand beside her struggling brother. "The fuck is all this about!" Cersa demanded, looking between him and Damien. “You guys are friends!” She reminded the both of them. Then, Damien watched as her eyes settled on Carly and stopped. "Oh." Cersa said abruptly. "I get it."

Without giving her an opportunity to question him further, Damien decided that this was done, before any of them could be hurt further. He nodded in Cersa’s direction before hauling up his cane with a flourish.

Damien bowed slightly to the gods, as his small group gathered close. "Another time, perhaps." He said almost apologetically to Cersa. 

Then with a flash of light, the four of them disappeared, leaving Cersa and Kasmilos alone in the snow.

  
  


~~

Mark heaved a sigh when Isaiah answered his phone. He supposed the man was giving Nic his instructions, setting up his trap. But Mark was tired, and finding it a little hard to focus. He settled a little where he was sitting, and placed his hand down on the ground. As he was sitting there, the fire crackled, and the wood shifted, and as Mark watched, a burning stick tumbled down, until the unlit end of it rested very near to Mark’s hand. His eyes widened before he could control it, and he shifted upwards, checking both men to see if either of them had seen it.

Close by, he heard Morgan clear his throat. Mark stilled, thinking he’d lost his chance to act. But all Morgan said was: “I wouldn’t.” 

It was a warning. 

But that’s all it was. He didn’t move to stop Mark, or take the possible weapon away from him.

When Mark looked back on this moment later he’d understand this gesture for what it was. An opportunity. Morgan was giving him a chance to escape with his life. When he had the time to actually think about it, he would wonder why Morgan had allowed him to do this, while his father was distracted.

Once he was sure that Morgan wasn’t about to intervene, he grabbed that branch and brought it up in a burning arc, allowing dislodged embers to catch Isaiah right in his grizzled face. 

Isaiah yelped.

Mark placed a hand over his injured side, pushed himself to his feet and ran. He took off for that snow-covered field (which in hindsight probably wasn’t the smartest idea, but in his panic, he only thought to get away.) Behind him he heard Isaiah shouting, and what sounded like Morgan trying to calm him down. He heard a small round of shots being fired off behind him, striking ground around him harmlessly.

But it didn’t sound right.

As the snow flew up into the air, he heard something close by to him crack loudly.

That was when he realized he wasn’t standing in a field.

He was perched precariously on an iced-over lake. Isaiah’s volley of gunfire had just cracked the ice. He froze, like there was anything else he could do. Ice began to crack and break around him, sending up small puffs of snow with each new crevice. The slab beneath him shifted, and Mark was pitched forward, landing on his knees. Mark gasped, placing a hand over his side as he felt the injury scream with added pain.

He heard as the ice continued to shift and crack around him. The sound reminded him very much of the sound of a glass shattering. Mark placed his free hand against the ice beneath him, partially to try and steady himself, and partly because... he thought he could hear a voice.

Like something familiar was calling to him from underneath.

_ Well.  _ It said _. Looks like you’re at a crossroads. _

Suddenly, the slab Mark was perched on violently upended him, and he fell into icy darkness.


	6. Issues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, is it really a surprise this chapter took forever, considering the fact I for some reason have decided to have a life? I know, I'm as stunned as you are.
> 
> Also, I don't believe I've ever mentioned it here, but... this fanfic has a playlist too, just like the other fics in this series. Just like the other playlists, it contains spoilers. You can find it [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLe3LomlisX1KGNBRgUoScoKf1MCF9zEh6).

_ Around Oatman Arizona, June 1889 _

Damien groaned as the room spun around him. He didn’t recognize immediately where he was, but he knew right away it was nowhere he wanted to be. Dirt floor. Creaky, wooden walls. Old rickety ladder in the far corner leading up into an equally rickety old house. 

When his scattered brain cells finally began to realign, Damien remembered where he was, how he got there. That old confederate had been so, so angry at Cersa’s rejection. That part he’d expected. What they hadn’t expected was for him to pistol whip Damien while his back was turned. A rookie mistake, Damien thought, and he could already hear Caine’s laughter rattling about inside his wounded skull. In his moment of weakness the man had strung him up to the rafters and left him to die. Now he was trapped in that crotchety old man’s basement, and he was laying in the dust after his so-called ‘friend’ Kasmilos had cut him down and let him fall face first in the dirt. He’d be feeling the tightening of the noose around his neck in his nightmares for weeks, most likely.

The god roughly pushed him onto his back and he looked up into the face of his apparent rescuer; his dark hair mostly hidden under the wide brim of his Boss of the Plains Stetson. Damien would have recognized that damned hat anywhere. It had taken that diva forever to shape it the way he wanted it. 

“They’re gonna tell me I should have left you to hang.” The man drawled.

“Who, specifically, is going to say that?” Damien asked, playing at curiosity, while conveniently ignoring the truth that there were probably a good many people who would love to see him dead. Some of them were still living, despite his best efforts. Like the confederate.

“Caine, for one.” Kasmilos put out there.

Damien huffed. “Because he loves a good spectacle. He lives for a solid public execution. He knows damn good and well that I won’t die, he just wants to watch me twitch and kick my feet while the women faint and men scream.” Damien said, as he pressed both of his palms into the dirt and tried to push himself up. “He has to give his permission for me to die.”

He was very unsteady, though, and there was nothing there for him to really grip onto to allow him to push himself up. His fingers dug into frustratingly loose soil. With his various injuries attempting to heal themselves, it didn’t leave him much energy left for things like balance and coordination. Apparently tired of seeing him struggle, Kasmilos took him by the arm and pulled him up to his feet.

Once he was standing on his own, Damien was quick to shove the other man back. “Don’t help me. Never help me.” Damien warned him sternly, jabbing a finger into the other man’s face. It drew a snort out of Kaz.

“Proud as always.” Kasmilos said derisively.

“I don’t want you treating me like the poor little human.” Damien replied, as he moved to dust himself off. It wasn’t a matter of pride, though he was certainly guilty of that sin, and many others. It was the whole, ‘godly being looking out for the frail human’ thing he couldn’t stand. Damien knew his own power, and what he was capable of, and he hated the superior attitude often displayed by these gods. The only one of them who seemed to understand was Cersa, and he supposed it was because her talent, as a goddess, wasn’t anything like her brother’s or her grandfather’s strength and control of the elements. She had to find other means to get power, settling first on archery, and then gleefully moving onto artillery. She had a marvelous eye for shooting targets with either weapon. She never treated him like he was lesser or helpless just because of who he was, and that’s what made working with her tolerable.

“You are the poor little human.” Kasmilos pointed out to him. “And you’re limping.” He added, pointing to how Damien was favoring his right leg. Damien hadn’t even noticed that.  _ How did he not notice himself hurting his own leg? _ He wondered.

“Ah, so that’s why they call you detective, because you’re so damn observant.” Damien snapped, rolling his eyes to the ceiling as he began to limp towards the only exit he could find; a rickety staircase, with only a wooden on one side to keep himself supported.They were on borrowed time here if what he was suspecting right then was true. He thought nothing of shoving the god out of his way as he went, knowing it would take much more than that little push to hurt him. Besides, Kas deserved it. He didn’t know why right then, but given enough time and he was sure a reason would present itself. He was able, with some difficulty, to get up the stairs on his own, and begin to make his way out of the confederate’s house. Pushing open the man’s front door damn near blinded him. Damien hissed and took a step back like the vampires in myth and lore, terrified of the sun (honestly, they’d be much less terrifying if any of that was true, Damien thought to himself). 

“Not expecting midday?” Kasmilos asked far too casually.

“No.” Damien admitted, dropping his hands from his eyes once they were better adjusted. “How long have I been missing?” He asked the other man. 

Kasmilos shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know when I got to the hotel, the owner was tossing yours and Cersa’s things out into the road, saying you and her had took off without paying or checking out. He was pissed. Tried to shake me down to pay your debts.” Kasmilos explained. 

“And what did you say?” Damien asked, curious.

“I told him I wasn’t paying for a room that was never used.” Kasmilos shrugged. “And if he had anything else to say about it he could tell it to the end of my rifle.” 

“I’m sorry to get you mixed up in that.” Damien sighed. “I didn’t check out because that blasted confederate pistol-whipped me when my back was turned.” He thought it over for a moment, which was honestly a bit difficult, with the way his head was ringing. Reverberating waves of pain moving through him, over and over, clouding out all other thought. Damien stopped in his tracks, pressing his palms over his eyes as he tried desperately to sort through his disorganized memories. “I have no idea how long ago.. Either last night, or maybe the day before…” He whispered.

Kas placed a hand on his shoulder, drawing Damien out of his head for a moment, giving him something to concentrate on other than the pain. “And where was Cersa when that happened?” He calmly interjected.

Damien ws quiet for a moment, sort of tempted not to answer that one. He knew the god would be angry, and he was honestly too injured to deal with the god’s wrath right then. But deep down he knew that trying to hide his answer would be a pointless endeavor. Kasmilos would find out one way or another, and his silence would be an answer in itself. “With me.” Damien quietly informed him. 

Kasmilos was quiet for a moment, as he turned this information over in his head, and the next time he spoke, Damien could sense the man’s rumbling anger. “So then, the reason my sister is missing…”

“He has her.” Damien filled in for him, feeling like the wheels in Kasmilos head were turning a bit too slow for his taste. “He must have taken her after he knocked me out.” He explained further.

Immediately Kasmilos was fuming, as he narrowed his eyes at Damien. The hand on his shoulder yanked him around viciously, causing Damien’s world to spin mindlessly. “What in the hell did you get my sister into this time?” He demanded.

“Oh, don’t act so indignant, she knows what she’s doing.” Damien said, as he reached up to knock the man’s hand away. “ _ She’s _ the one who agreed to work with Caine, I’m just the guy cleaning up their mess. So if you want to be angry, take it up with the Boss.” He snapped. “Hell, you’re lucky. He didn’t even make her sign a contract.” 

Shaking his head, he turned from Kasmilos once again, bound and determined, and began to walk towards where he knew the confederate had to have gone. He owned a stake in a couple of silver mines, and one of them wasn’t too far from here. He must have retreated back to the mines, with Cersa, and the rest of his ill-gotten gold, as a coward does.

It was maybe not the best plan to go walking through the desert, without a horse, without water, without even his hat, but he was still a little foggy from hanging by the neck in that basement. Besides. he didn’t want to waste his magic on a teleportation spell that would make him even foggier.

“Damien?” He heard Kasmilos call after him.

Damien sighed. Didn’t he have a wife to go home to? Why was he still following him? “I don’t need your help, Kasmilos.”

He’d rescue Cersa on his own, even if it meant he had to walk all the way to the mines. He didn’t hear the man follow him, not immediately anyways. What in the hell was he doing out here, Damien wondered. Kasmilos hadn’t been around since he betrothed himself to that one woman. What was her name again? Margaret? Emma? Martha? His brain kept pulling up m-names, so it had to be something along those lines. The last he’d heard, Kasmilos was very happy and wasn’t looking to have any more adventures.

Focusing on that puzzle made it easier for him to walk on a bum leg, trudging along because it made the fact that he hadn’t had a drink of cool water in what felt like days more tolerable. 

Damien was so deep in the distraction of thought it took him a moment to recognize the steady pounding of hoofed feet plodding along behind him until it was almost too late. Damien abruptly froze and before he knew it, Kasmilos had grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and hauled him up to sit in front of him on his horse. On pure instinct, Damien jabbed his elbow right into Kasmilos’ rib cage, hard. The grunt that got out of Kas should not have been as satisfying as it was.

“You milksop…” Kasmilos panted out after a moment, and almost immediately Damien felt much better about the way his day was going.

“Fool. Give me the reins.” Damien demanded. He was sitting at the front of the horse. He should be the one steering. Ignoring the fact that he felt like his head was in a vise, this seemed perfectly logical to him.

“Are you trying to get to the mines?” Kasmilos correctly guessed. 

Damien blinked. “Yeah?” 

“The mines that are in Diablo Canyon, the exact opposite direction from where you were heading?” Kasmilos asked, and Damien shook in surprise. He scrutinized his surroundings for a moment, before begrudgingly realizing that Kasmilos was correct. But he sure as shit wasn’t going to admit that.

After going a few moments without Damien dignifying him with an answer, Kasmilos decided for him. “I’m steering.” he said. 

“I hate you.” Damien decided. He listened to the man shifting behind him for a moment, when he suddenly felt Kasmilos tap his arm with something metallic. He glanced down, and was relieved to see him offering him a tin water vessel. Damien greedily snatched it and proceeded to down the entire thing, like he’d never had a drink a day in his life. 

If Kasmilos minded, he didn’t say anything.

“Just relax.” The cowboy said to him. “We’ll be there before you know it.” 

~~

Damien felt something sharp jab him in the shoulder and he whined.

“God, not this dream within a dream bullshit again.” He whined, squirming against the support at his side in a futile attempt to escape his attacker. On reflex, he placed a protective hand against his throat. “My neck just stopped hurting, have mercy.”

“Damien, what are you talking about?” Carly asked, her voice coming from what seemed a good distance away. 

Damien was recovering very slowly from what must have been a huge exertion of his magic. He wasn’t quite connecting the dots just yet, either. He had to have been fighting someone, though. He could feel the bumps and scrapes and aches in his bones.

He distantly remembered Carly asking him a question, and he stirred to answer. 

  
  


“Dream.” He muttered. “And you were there. And you were there.” He said, pointing off towards… something. Not that he could tell if there actually was anyone there, but he couldn’t end the quote just pointing at Carly. His hand flailed uselessly and he felt someone reel backwards when his palm glanced off of someone’s (who was not Carly) cheek. He couldn’t help a half-conscious snicker at that. 

“Jesus, Damien, careful.” Carly lightly scolded him, taking his wrist and placing it back down. 

“What was the dream about?” Damien heard Virgil speak up for the first time. Ah, his lovely student, who had inadvertently caused all of this drama, dragging them all through it for months. He didn’t regret slapping him at all. 

“You know. Cowboy stuff.” Damien murmured, as he finally opened his eyes.

Waking and spotting Carly and Virgil hovering near to him worriedly caused everything to come flooding back. He’d fought with Kasmilos. Kaz. His  _ friend. _ But now he was nowhere near that icy field. He was sitting next to Virgil, who was kneeling beside him, graciously allowing Damien to use his shoulder as a pillow as he recovered. Definitely how he wanted to wake up, with the realization that he was showing weakness in front of his student. Virgil. Who had been missing for months. Just as long as Mark had been, only Virgil didn’t have as many people who cared about him and people who would look for him. His disappearance wasn’t a thing gossiped about on message boards the world over, not like Mark’s. There was an unfamiliar, and yet growing ache in his heart that signaled just how much he had missed the kid, and Damien allowed himself one moment of vulnerability to let his guard down and tug Virgil into a tight hug.

“If you ever disappear like that again, I’ll kill you. You won’t have to worry about your dad or a hunter or any other errant gods.” Damien promised him, even as he squeezed the young man tightly.

Virgil startled to be grabbed like that, simply not expecting it, and probably, admittedly, a little jumpy after the fight they’d all just gone through. Despite that, he still seemed slightly confused at the display. “Are you saying you missed me?” He asked after a moment, like the concept was completely foreign to him.

Of course Damien did, but admitting it felt a little too much like affection, though and aside from being affectionate with his girl, he considered himself far too manly and straight to do any such thing with other, obviously manly men. So he pushed Virgil back to a safely non-homosexual distance and shrugged, like the past two seconds didn’t mean anything. “No. I missed having someone to show off my power for, and make myself feel important to.” He decided, as he pulled away and, with some difficulty, moved to stand on his own two feet. Carly kept her hand on his elbow the entire time, and he allowed it, just this once. She was one of the few he would allow to fret over him.

Carly smiled a little herself, once she deemed Damien well enough to stand on his own. “He missed you.” Carly assured Virgil. “He’s just scared that saying so will chip away at his fragile masculinity.

“Nonsense. I’m utterly confident in my rigidity.” Damien said, dusting snow off of his various articles of clothing. Once he felt more like himself, he noted the wolf standing guard close by to Carly’s side. If Griever cared that his master was no longer comatose, he didn’t show it, staring out into the woods like there was something more interesting happening out there. Hell, to a wolf, it probably was more interesting, Damien realized. He looked back to Carly. “I wasn’t out long, right?” 

Carly shrugged. “A couple of minutes, maybe.”

“Good. Good.” Damien decided, as he glanced around. He wasn’t actually sure where his magic had dumped them. When he had cast the teleportation spell, he hadn’t exactly picked out any destination in particular. The problem with magic was that you had to be very specific, or there would be unforeseen consequences. He’d cast countless failed spells when he was first learning that backfired on him simply because he had minced his words, and saying something like ‘someplace safe’, like he had, could land them anywhere. “Any idea where we are?” He asked. 

Damien watched as Virgil glanced to Carly, and Carly glanced back to Damien, and only offered him a half-shrug. 

“Well, we’re still in Michigan.” Carly said certainly.

“How can you tell?” Virgil asked, which honestly, in Damien’s mind, was a fair question. It wasn’t exactly uncommon to stumble upon a patch of woods anywhere in this country, and especially as you moved out eastwards.

“I know my state.” She answered simply. “Besides, while you were getting your beauty sleep I took a bit of a walk with Griever.” She pointed back behind them. “ I found a road back that way.” 

“Well, it’s a start.” Damien said, as he began to trudge in the direction she had pointed. Virgil quickly fell into step beside him, glancing behind himself a few times, as though Kasmilos was going to pop out from behind some tree and attack the three of them again. He supposed it was possible. Everywhere they went out here. walking through ankle deep snow, through water solidified, there was alway a chance. Kaz had always been the creative type. 

Manipulative. 

Damien heard Carly skip along beside him until she could match his pace without being left behind. Having a much shorter stride than the two other men meant she had to quicken her pace a little. Damien held out his arm, and though she seemed reluctant at first, she finally took it, pulling close to him. Walking arm in arm was a sweet image, and Damien could almost imagine that the two of them were talking a perfectly normal, pleasant stroll in the winter-time. It was nice. For a moment.

“I’m still mad at you though.” Carly informed him. “I’m just here cause it’s cold and you’re warm.” 

“I expected nothing less, my dear.” Damien told her. She would come around. He hoped, at any rate. 

True to her word they eventually reached the road she’d mentioned. Damien looked both ways, and after some debate, they picked a direction at random and began to walk down along the side of it. There was no sidewalk, and the road wasn’t a main thoroughfare, so it wasn’t terribly well-lighted either. It took them about 15 minutes of seemingly directionless meandering before they finally saw what looked to be a car headed in their direction. Damien paused for a moment, bringing his little group to a stop. But the car never came close to passing them. It was just sitting there.

That was… odd. 

“What is that?” Virgil ventured.

“Let’s not be paranoid, now.” Damien gently advised. “They probably just stopped to change a tire or something.”

“It doesn’t look like it.” Virgil said, squinting his eyes. Oh, right. Damien forgot about Virgil’s newly minted vampiric senses. If anyone could figure out what was happening, it was likely him.

“Virgil, what do your elf eyes see?” He asked half-sarcastically, and Carly shot him a look.

If he minded the jab, Virgil said nothing. “Looks like...I mean they’re stopped but… they’re not doing anything.” he said, and he quickened his pace a little, so that Damien had to move a bit faster to keep up with his apprentice. “The car’s just sitting there… there’s someone at the wheel…” The closer Virgil got, the more the scene was revealed to him. “That car’s been in an accident.” Virgil said, eyes narrowing, as the young man moved faster” It looks like…” he paused again. “I… I think that’s…” 

“Spit it out, boy.” Damien encouraged him, watching the shock develop on Virgil’s face. The vampire suddenly took off running for the car.

“Uncle Nic!” Virgil called out.

Carly and Damien shared a split second look, before they too broke out into a run.

  
  


~~

As soon as Damien and his group of miscreants had disappeared, Kasmilos sank to his knees, crying out and pounding the ground in anger, sending up a spray of dirt and ice chunks.

Cersa blinked, seeing his fit, quickly bringing up her arm to protect her eyes from the tiny shards flying past her. “Well I would ask what happened but I think I’ve pretty much got a handle on the story.” She mused a little. Cersa sauntered over to her brother’s side and offered him a hand up. Her brother, for as much as he looked like he didn’t want her help, and still looking a bit more like a man-eating shark than a human right about then, still offered her a scaly hand and she quickly hauled him to his feet. 

“And what is it that you have deduced, fair sister?” Kasmilos asked, as he slowly began the somewhat painful process of reverting back to human. Cersa always winced whenever she witnessed it, every tiny scale retracting into the skin, leaving tiny droplets of blood behind. It just seemed like it should be so painful, though never seemed to bother him for long. She didn’t take on her own form nearly as much as she used to, and hadn’t found the need, but she was pretty sure her transformation didn’t look nearly as painful as his.

“Well, I’ve pretty much figured that Virgil absconded with Mark.” She ventured, ignoring the irritated flare from her brother.

“And?” 

“Hidden him away for all this time. Mark might have even been in on it, I’m not sure yet. And when you Damien caught up with him he found his girl on the opposing side…” Cersa smiled a little, at the memory. “She’s a fantastic beauty, by the way.” 

“She kicked me in the crotch.” Kasmilos said, looking aghast at his sister’s continued infatuation. 

Cersa simply snorted at that, looking far too amused for her brother’s comfort. “Fuck, I love her.” She said, shaking the laugh out of her system with a toss of her brightly colored hair. “Anyways, Damien must have seen his hot gothic princess taking sides with the vampire and he suddenly flipped on you.” 

Kasmilos was silent in response to that, which basically told her everything she needed to know. She did feel bad for him, though. He was her brother. He was a tremendous pain in her ass, but she still wanted to see him succeed. She had thought he was doing better, from her position nearly 400 miles away. With Jenn in the picture he seemed to settle, and some of his flightiness dissipated. He was working on providing for his family, and things seemed to be going well, up until Virgil was turned.

And… maybe she should have seen this whole love triangle thing taking flight during the eight months Mark and Virgil spent at her house making goo-goo eyes at each other. If she really put her mind to it, she thought that maybe she saw some of the signs. Virgil was charming and he took care of Mark when she couldn’t. Naturally she’d been a little preoccupied with her dying brother, at the time. Keeping an eye on Mark’s pregnancy, while important, didn’t exactly take precedence to her at the time. Mark was a good patient and did what he was told to protect his baby, and that had been what mattered to her at the time. Virgil had stepped in to cover the rest of her bases. She had been grateful, so she didn’t exactly regret not heading this situation off at the pass. She wasn’t the type to live with regrets, after all, and she’d have been a very different type of goddess if she had the power to see the future.

That made her wonder what the Moirai were up to these days, and if they were still mad at her about their shears… Though that was neither here nor there, at the moment. Her brother was obviously in pain, and needed her support.

She placed an arm around Kasmilo’s shoulders, tugging her brother down, and gently confided in him. "Listen, I know you've been solidly gay for the past couple of years so allow me to fill you in. You're my brother. I love you, and I support you. But even I would betray you in order to take a bite out of her perfect round ass." Cersa informed Milo, as if this was all just fact. “That girl has cake for centuries. I would start Trojan War II for her. So just keep that in mind, when both me and Damien stab you in the back to make them cheeks clap, it’s not personal.” She said, giving his shoulder a firm, friendly smack.

The look on her brother’s face couldn’t have been more dry and unamused. "Thank you, Cersa. I'm glad that in my time of need, this is the kind of emotional support you can offer me." He gently tugged himself out of her arms. Fully returned to his human form he looked a lot more like himself, except for the fact that he was naked, and if Cersa had to guess, the clothes he came in were likely in tattered pieces and buried here and there in the random snowdrifts pushed up by the fight. And Cersa hadn’t exactly dressed for the weather here, either. The fae she’d talked to sent her hurtling through existence without giving her a chance to prepare, which the fairy probably thought was terribly funny, but that meant that there wasn’t much she could do right then for her brother. She didn’t even have a coat to offer him. That she actually felt more apologetic about.

She tipped her head to the side for a bit, smirking a little as she looked him over. He shot an eyebrow up at her. “Not a goddamn word.” he warned. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She agreed with a grin. “Come on, Kaz, there’s bound to be an Urban Outfitter’s somewhere around here.” 

“Just what I wanted to hear.” Kas sighed. He trudged along behind her in the snow. “Can you at least explain to me why you’re here, and not sitting at home with my daughter?” he asked, as he fell into step beside her. 

“Because my baby bro needs me?” Cersa offered, enjoying far too much the irritated look on his face. “Don’t worry, I spotted her ten bucks and gave her a phone book. She’ll be fine.” 

“Cersa…”    
  


“I left her with Callie.” Cersa finally confessed, only because he sounded honestly worried. “It was her idea anyways, that I should be here with you now. In your hour of need.” She said. “And it’s a good thing I showed up when I did. Never in all my days did I ever expect to find you and Damien having a tiff like that.” She explained. 

“I just want to find Mark. He’s my husband.” Kasmilos pointed out sensibly. “I have to make sure he’s okay. And now that crooked old  _ witch  _ is standing in my way.” 

“Wow, he made you use the bad word.” Cersa said, eyes widening a little, knowing he’d have to be severely pissed at Damien to be resorting to slurs. “Don’t worry, my brother dearest. I’m already working on a plan to avenge you.” Cersa replied, as she moved ahead of him in the snow. It was probably not the smartest way to protect his modesty, but right then she didn’t exactly have any better ideas. 

Kaz didn’t seem as enthusiastic as she was, as he followed along behind her, seeming to get the idea. “And how do you plan to do that.?” He asked.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” Cersa asked. “I’m going to steal Damien’s girl from him. That’ll make you both even. Oh, don’t thank me. I’m well aware of my plan’s brilliance.” 

“ _ I  _ was about to do no such thing. Cersa, she’s colder than the snow we’re trudging through. Which is damned cold, by the way..” He said, and Cersa turned to glance at him just in time to see him shiver a little. Which was saying something. They both routinely swam in the Pacific, which as a general rule, was cold as balls. 

“Oh, I just haven’t had the chance to work my magic over her.” Cersa replied, chuckling to herself. “Just wait. I’ll have the land-maid seduced before you know it.” She said, chuckling a bit at her own sense of humor. 

“You now, dear sister, I have the weirdest feeling that this isn’t actually about avenging me, and more about you getting laid.” Kasmilos replied.

“Nonsense.” Cersa dismissed his worries immediately. “Kaz, I’m making this immense sacrifice for  _ you _ . I’m putting everything on the line, to woo the intensely beautiful goddess of men, for you. And when I’m tongue deep in between her milky-white thighs, I’ll be thinking about you the entire time, and how you’ve finally been avenged.” Cersa insisted, which as she pleasantly expected, drew a disgusted eye roll from her brother.

“I decisively don’t want that, Cersa.” Kasmilos replied. “Let’s just try to focus a little, here.”

“You’re right, you start formulating a plan to rescue Mark, and I’ll worry about Carly.” Cersa determined, as she set about their task to find a way out of this icy wasteland.

~~

Damien stood above the man that he knew was ‘Nic.’ The same Nic that Carly didn’t want to tell him about. The very same one that had apparently had a romantic history with her. Yet as he stood there, taking in the sight of that broken man slumped over beneath him, he didn’t feel contempt or anger, the way he had expected.

He felt…  _ concerned _ . 

Especially as Carly tearfully pulled the man’s head to her chest, blood spilling from a gash hidden somewhere on his head to spill over her white jacket. The man was conscious, though obviously very out of sorts. Whatever had happened before they’d arrived, it had knocked a good deal of the sense out of him. Virgil became frantic, as he dug through the glove box, looking for something, anything to stem the flow of blood, and Damien couldn’t tell if it was to save his uncle or to kill his own instincts, the murderous notion every vampire felt whenever there was blood in the air. Damien allowed himself a moment to be impressed by Virgil’s progress. He did feel a bit dumb just standing there, though, especially after the display of his power he’d just put on. For all that power, healing magic just wasn’t a thing he was good at. At the time, it just didn’t seem like something he would ever use. That was more Cersa’s forte, and even then, she didn’t always have the answers. Kasmilos’ coma was a good example of that. 

Carly caught his eye then, and he knew without her even saying anything what she was about to ask him.

"Damien can fix you." She whispered to Nic, even as she looked to Damien imploringly.

The gentle statement of fact, like she completely believed it damn near killed him.

"I- I am not a healing mage, Carly. I have never been good with white magic." He told her apologetically. But before he could pull himself away, Carly reached out, firmly grabbing Damien’s wrist. She gave Damien a stern look.

"Damien is going to fix you or I will never forgive his indiscretions. " Carly said then.

_ Fuck. _

He could tell she meant it too. But… he still had that niggling doubt, that fear within him.He could count on one hand the number of times he’d cast a healing spell, and the results, frankly, were mixed.

“Carly.” He said her name again. “I could hurt him worse. I could make his injuries greater, completely on accident.” he said. “I don’t want that hanging over my head.”

At least when he was attacking someone with his magic, he meant it. He fully intended to hurt whoever had provoked his ire. And though he wasn’t the happiest right then that Carly had kept Nic and that part of her past a secret, he wasn’t looking to injure the man for it. He wasn’t sure he trusted his ability the way Carly seemed to.

Virgil’s voice cut through the fog of his own doubt. “Please, Damien, you’re the only chance we’ve got right now.” He reminded. “We don’t even know where we are, and the only thing I have to staunch the blood is fast-food napkins.” Virgil said.

“Come on, Damien, at least try.” Carly insisted again.

They both made a fair point. He did not want to spend the entire night trudging through the snow, nor did he want Carly to stay mad at him, either.

"I… okay. I'll give it a shot." Damien finally agreed. He didn’t have much of a choice. “Here, help him to sit up.”    
  


He had to help Carly guide him into a position where Nic could face Damien, and even then, he was so out of it that Carly had to kneel on the seat behind him to keep him upright. As Damien finally set hands on him, Nic’s senses cleared just enough to voice his own uncertainties.

"Any side effects to this?" Nic asked him weakly.

Damien shrugged. "You may actually go blind."

"There won't be any side effects, because Damien wouldn't dare fail me." Carly replied, shooting Damien another pointed look.

Damien wished he had Carly’s confidence.

“Alright, then Nic. If that is your real name.” Damien said, as he felt his power began to flow outward. He could sort of feel the beginnings of the spell, soft, wispy, white tendrils, building layer on layer, following vital connections towards his intended target. “I want you to picture a field.” 

As he instructed him, Nic closed his eyes. That was good. Damien wanted to put some distance between himself and Nic just in case this didn’t work out, and if he was closing his eyes Damien could at least get a head start running. 

“A big, empty field, on a bright spring day. It’s warm, but not uncomfortable.” Damien said, trying to work the magic up inside of himself, too, trying to direct it, which was a little like trying to direct fog from a machine, especially after all the power he had exerted earlier. He had to let it build in order to focus it. “You can see trees and hills, but they’re a good distance away. It’s just you, alone, for miles, maybe. The grass has grown up to your waist. So tall that if you fell backwards it wouldn’t even hurt, you’d just land on a bed of soft, pliable greenery.” Damien continued to describe for him. 

“Soun’s nice.” Nic whispered. 

“It is.” Damien continued, as he felt the magic move from behind his eyes, down his neck, through his shoulders, bringing with it a sense of relief, of muscles draining tension. That much he expected. There was no telling though, what that magic would do to Nic until it got to him. That was the tricky part for Damien, focusing that cloud-like energy into something that would heal and not harm. “You feel a gentle breeze whipping around you, tugging at your clothes, soft tendrils combing like fingers through your hair. You raise your hands and you can feel the energy of it curling around your fingers. It’s gentle, but there’s a power there.” Damien said.

The magic moved from his shoulders, down Damien’s arms, making him feel heavy, just for a moment. He sighed a little himself, as he gathered his strength to do this. “I want you to envision yourself opening up to that power, and letting it fill you. It sweeps through you, from your fingertips to shoulders, taking away every tension, every pain.”

Nic hissed. Clearly he felt the sensation of Damien’s magic leaking into him, from where they touched, hand to hand. 

“I know it’s strange.” Damien said to him, trying to coax the man into accepting these sensations.. “But you’re open to it. It’s not hurting you, that gentle sensation of the wind moving over you is simply now inside, and it’s removing from you every pain, every cramp, taking away pinches and numbing nerves you weren’t even aware of. Gently washing away every toxin, every sign of illness.” Damien paused, looking at his patient to make sure he was still with them. “You can feel it, can’t you?” 

“Yes sir.” Nic whispered, and his voice sounded a little shaky, like if Damien and Carly hadn’t been there supporting him, he’d have dropped to his knees and sobbed.

He was a strong man, Damien could tell that right away. He might not have gotten this far otherwise, though he would have liked to take all the credit for what was happening here. It might have been an impressive mark on his resume. “Feel that energy move through your neck now.” Damien directed, with as much gentle guidance as he could muster. His magic stuttered there, fighting against the fresh signs of whiplash, and something like that might have brought Damien to a disastrous stop before, and that could have been deadly for Nic. But with Carly’s presence, with her hope and belief in him so strong, Damien found he was able to push through the blockages he found there. 

Nic started to move, almost fighting it now, as Damien’s magic moved past his neck and moved to the injuries in his head. 

“Don’t fight it.” Damien told him softly, as softly as he could, to try and get Nic to calm down. “I know this is frightening.” he said. “Just because it’s something unknown, but you’ve come this far, now the only way out is through.” he continued to guide the man. 

There was so much damage here, Damien could see it now. Not just from hitting his head against the steering wheel, when the car abruptly came to a stop. There was a fight, a vicious one, and it left the man severely concussed. It was no wonder to him that they’d found him so dazed, he was a little surprise the man could still remember his name, much less do anything else.

If he could just fix the damage without killing him…

He swallowed, before trying to guide Nic through it again. “As the wind moves through your skull, it takes every last vestige of pain with it.” Damien guided him. “You feel it swirling, and the sensation is strange, like peeling dead skin from your toes, but it doesn’t hurt, and you are not afraid.” Damien told him firmly. “The wind is taking your pain, the hurts you’ve suffered, but not just now, from all of the time that you’ve been alive.” he told Nic. “It’s leaving behind the sensation of normality, of peace, of knowing that this healing is meant to be. It’s leaving you tired, your muscles weak. You will sleep now because you don’t have a choice, but you know that once you wake, you’ll feel as though brand new.” Damien said to him. 

Nic’s head drooped a little, and Damien knew it had worked. Quickly, he withdrew his magic from the other man, and he watched as Nic fell back against Carly’s chest, breathing steadily, practically a new man. Seeing what he had just accomplished, Damien fell forward himself, using the car to brace himself, as Carly moved Nic to lay back against the front seat of the car. 

Once Nic was settled, Carly reached out and gleefully smacked Damien’s hip. “I knew you could do it.” She told him. 

“Yeah.” Damien panted a moment. “Sure.” Damien breathed out again. He didn’t feel himself slumping forward, until Virgil moved around the car to help him.

It took some rearranging but eventually, everyone was seated inside the warm car, with Damien sitting in the back, with Carly, and Nic resting between them. Damien was rather pointedly not looking at the way Nic was laying with his head draped on Carly’s shoulder. Carly was drawing gentle fingers through Nic’s hair as he rested, and Virgil was seated at the driver’s seat, tapping distractedly at the steering wheel. 

Once his head was a little clearer, Damien cleared his throat and glanced between Carly and Virgil.

“So.” 

“I don’t know what happened.” Carly answered, before Damien could get his question out.

“I can’t feel Mark anymore.” Virgil added. 

Damien raised his head up at that. 

“Oh.” Damien replied softly, and a lot of realizations hit him at once. The reason the link spell had stopped working eight months ago was because of the magic of his student. His  _ student _ , who apparently reached clarity with his magic lessons the moment he died. There was a lesson to be learnt there, he was sure. Secondly… Virgil was feeling cut off from his charge. From Damien’s other charge, though they’d never actually made that official It was just that Mark and Virgil were together all the time. 

Damien would have hated to admit this outloud, but over the years, with Virgil as his student, and Mark, the man his student was crushing on, he’d grown close to both men. He considered the both of them friends, as much as he did Kasmilos. Well, as much as he once did Kasmilos, he supposed. In the span of five years, he went from having only Kasmilos (and Cersa, he supposed,) to having this whole sort of family. Carly, the broken woman he adored. Virgil, his student. Jenn, the precocious little girl who amused him. And Mark.

Mark was funny and charismatic, and had a devious streak a mile long. And now he was completely off all of their radars.

He knew what that meant, more intimately than anyone else sitting in that car. 

“We need to wake up Nic.” Damien said, glancing to Carly. 

“But Damien…” Carly began to protest. 

“We don’t have time.” He said firmly. “Wake him up, this is important.” 

Damien had expended so much magic that evening, that his movement was weak, trembling. He reached out to grab Virgil’s shoulder. “Is there any clue here to tell us what he was doing?”

Virgil glanced about the cabin of the car quickly, until his eyes settled on his uncle’s phone, sitting on the dashboard. The vampire grabbed it and turned it on, scrolling through the last few text messages on his uncle’s phone.

“There’s an address.” Virgil announced.

“Go there. I believe that’s where we’ll find our answers.” Damien said, as he turned back to Nic and Carly. Carly was gently tapping Nic’s cheek, watching with concern as the man slowly came to. 

Damien severely hoped that Nic was okay.

A man’s life was on the line. That is, if they weren’t already too late.

~~

Isaiah was pacing by the lake’s edge. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this upset with his eldest son. Morgan was an adult. He knew why they did this. Why they’d been doing this together, as a family, for  _ centuries _ . He understood why Virgil had to die. For fuck’s sake, there was a reason he had never tried to shield his son’s from the reality of their mother’s demise. The boys needed to know, to understand the fate that was sealed for every vampire. Even if they were close to the shells that they once called family.

They’d spent some time searching for Mark’s body as best as they could, but the fragile condition of the ice had brought any attempts at a recovery to a halt. It was just too dangerous to be out there. At this rate, they wouldn’t be able to find it until spring, and who knew what state that frozen corpse would be in by then.

“Dad.” Morgan spoke up, for the first time since he’d let their bait go.

Isaiah snapped immediately, whipping around to scold his son. “Did I ask for your-” 

“Dad, stop.” And the gentle urgency behind Morgan’s tone drew the old man to a halt. He whipped around, looking to his son. Morgan was sitting beside the fire, face stoic and calm, as he raised one arm, pointing out towards the water behind him. Isaiah blinked at his son, before he slowly turned around.

The lake that they had just watched Mark fall into… was  _ roiling. _

Like a pot that had been left over a burner and forgotten, the water had begun to bubble over, spilling hot water onto the shores, leaving behind large, steaming puddles. As Morgan was pointing it out to him, a bubble of steaming water formed and burst in front of them, and the water rushed up onto the land, nearing their encampment. For all that neither he nor Morgan were anywhere close to it, they could both still feel the violent heat surging towards them.

Morgan suddenly jumped from where he was seated and stood beside him, grabbing him by the arm.

“Dad.” Morgan whispered. “Just an hour ago that lake was frozen over.” 

“You say that like I could have forgotten.” Isaiah whispered gruffly.

“But have you ever seen anything like it?” Morgan asked.

Isaiah shook his head. “Never.” 

Another steaming bubble burst, and released a wave of steam so hot that Isaiah and Morgan were forced to step back, for their own safety. 

“What does it mean?” Morgan whispered. “What the hell are we dealing with, here?” he asked.

Isaiah sighed deeply, as he moved to pack up their gear. They needed to move, and quickly, before the banks flooded with boiling hot water and swept away their camp. “I think you hit the nail right on the head, there, Morg.” He said. “Come on, we need to back away from this thing.” 

“What do you think this is, Dad?” Morgan asked, staring for just a moment longer, before he too began to pack up his things.

“It’s hell, son. We’re looking into the gates of Hell.” 


	7. The Mission

The water wasn’t cold when he fell in. That might have been his first sign that none of this was normal, but he was fairly certain he was dead anyways so what did it matter? He’d already been shot, run out onto the ice, and now getting dunked into an icy lake like this? He could swim, yes, he’d been married to a merman for five years. But that didn’t mean he was a great swimmer, and especially with a hole in his side. Though Mark struggled and kicked he knew it was all worthless in the end; he was sure he wouldn’t be resurfacing again. He kicked somewhat weakly, almost on instinct, to try and find the surface again. Though at this point he couldn’t even tell which way that was. 

Then, Mark felt something brush his ankle. 

That’s when the memories came flooding back to him.

_“I do apologize; I’ve drowned a good number of mortal lovers this way.”_

No.

He’d worked so hard to push that incident from his memories. He wasn’t like that. It wasn’t fair to judge him from that first encounter-

_Endless black water closing around him, the feeling of sandpapery scales brushing along his naked skin, the claws, the terrifying teeth. Being swept into the creature’s lair and finally meeting the merman Milo for the first time. He had thought he was going to die that day. He remembered that creature pinning him to the cave floor, violating him as he violently coughed up sea water. But instead of slowly dying in a dark, unfamiliar place, the creature had kept him alive._

_“Even the sweetest, most well-intentioned guy. If he did everything right, courted me the old fashioned way, I don’t think I could, I could never…”_

How odd that Mark could remember saying that. He’d said that to Milo in a fit of panic and anger. And thinking back on it, Mark realized right away why it had come to mind.

He’d been describing Virgil.

He could never have guessed it at the time. He wouldn’t even meet Damien until later that week, and Virgil nearly a year after that, but he could see it now.

With his life flashing before his eyes, Mark recalled now that first encounter with Virgil. Hell, he’d been terrified, but not for himself. It had only been a year since he’d met Milo, and the events that had happened then. The death of that innocent trucker, who’s only crime was setting himself between Mark and Bael, had been heavy on his mind. With the fire spitting rage goddess following close behind him, he had been so, so scared that he’d have to watch Virgil get flayed alive in front of him.

But Virgil had been calm, and comforting, and it had helped soothe his frayed nerves. He hadn’t realized it at the time, but it was because Virgil was used to comforting the victims of supernatural attacks. He’d been trained to do it practically since birth, and seemed to have a second instinct for what needed to be done for a terrified, non-powered human to feel secure. Mark felt like he couldn’t have been blamed if he found himself leaning into the man’s hold, as though the connection between them was magnetic. 

Virgil was there for him that day, and he never stopped being there for him. 

Mark had to pull back a little, feeling that his memories were being a little unfair.

It wasn’t like Milo was a terrible husband, ignoring the incident of how they met. It always made him smile to remember the first hike they went on together, through the Hollywood Hills to the sign. They’d been attacked left and right, and Milo had worked his ass off not just to keep Mark safe, but to keep him from realizing that they were under attack in the first place. He’d been afraid that Mark wouldn’t want to go out anymore if he knew they were going to be hunted occasionally, and fair enough, Mark might not have wanted to, but that was mostly because he was kind of a homebody anyways. Mark had played along like he hadn’t noticed, because he wanted to see how long Milo was going to carry on the charade that everything was fine. As long as he needed to, turned out to be the answer to that question. And while Mark hadn’t been initially happy with the man, he’d let it go, because at the time, he’d been trying to pick his battles with Milo. Since nothing else had happened, it seemed fine to allow, just this one time.

Then of course there was the sex. He and Milo had had some intense, borderline kinky sessions. Even on that hike, he recalled. Thank goodness for the lack of peripheral vision on those two cops who’d swung by the Hollywood sign, or he was positive his bare assprints on that sign would have been tabloid material for those YouTube Drama channels.

Thinking about Milo made something ache inside of him. Something that felt like he deeply missed the man, but he realized it wasn’t just these eight months kept away from him that made him feel that way. He’d had that feeling before, long before Virgil had kidnapped him. 

It wasn’t Milo’s fault. But, did he really need to have an assignment that took him so far away from home, so often? It made Mark wonder. Maybe he’d taken that assignment because they’d been growing apart. Maybe Mark was so involved with being a single parent to Jenn and working his ass off for his channel that he just hadn’t noticed. 

Kind of strange for him to have all these various realizations and memories in the few short minutes he had left before his air ran out and he finally succumbed. He just wished he could have seen Milo one more time and hashed all of this out. Maybe they could have salvaged their relationship. Or maybe not, but at least he could have tried. Maybe it wasn’t what either of them needed, but it would be nice to know either way.

As he had this thought, Mark felt something ebbing away at his consciousness, a heaviness came over his muscle and bone. This was it, he supposed; this was his body finally giving in to the lack of air, a piercing numbness overtaking more than just that entry in his side. He thought after meeting Milo, he wouldn’t have to worry again about drowning, because the man always seemed ready to save him. Maybe Mark wasn’t wrong about them growing apart...

Then, Mark’s world was rudely upended.

He wasn’t floating alone in the heart of a frozen lake. He was standing in a barren wasteland. It was such an abrupt change that the shock to his senses was nearly too much. Instead of inhaling ice water he was breathing in fumes from fire and brimstone, and the sudden transition brought him to his knees, heaving a dark, thick substance onto the sharpened stones beneath him. The rocky terrain under his feet was almost instantly familiar. Mark wasn’t in Michigan anymore, Toto.

He heard something moving behind him. Mark braced himself against the stones and...

...out of the corner of his eye caught sight of a pony-tailed child darting away from him. Mark realized who it was immediately and jerked hard, staggering after her, trying to catch her before she escaped him again. “Jenn!” Mark called out, but the girl was far quicker, and didn’t even slow at the sound of her name. 

Mark came to an abrupt halt as the child darted out of his sight, and he knew he couldn’t keep up with the quick pace she was setting. He was sore, weak, and terribly hurt. He had so much to ask her, and he knew what to ask this time, but he just couldn’t reach her. “Jenn, please.” He whispered, as if she could hear.

“She can’t hear you.” Mark heard a voice call to him. He knew that voice well, that flagrant copy of his own. So like his, but the demon could never get it totally right. It was like listening to someone trying to play a song but always getting the last few notes flat. The song was still familiar, but it sounded wrong. It was Mark’s plagiarist. His own personal Darkiplier. “Give her about eight years.”

“What are you talking about?” Mark demanded, shifting his attention back on his inner demon. “I know who that is. That’s my daughter. She doesn’t look like that now, but she will. What is she doing here? How did she get here?” He asked, jabbing a finger in Dark’s direction. “Did you do this?”

Dark tipped his head to the side, as if confused by the question. “I don’t interfere in your personal matters.” He reminded.

“All you ever do is interfere! You set shit on fire around me all the goddamn time!” Mark thought he was perfectly justified in pointing out. 

“Only when your poor judgement has landed us in a predicament that requires my intervention to save both our sorry hides.” Dark hissed at him, and Mark thought he might have seen some far off flames flicker in response to the demon’s anger. It should have been a reminder as to what he was toying with here. But he’d never listened to the inner voice of his own common sense, and he wasn’t about to start now. Mark was pissed right off. 

“Listen here you glitchy bastard.” He said, rounding on the other man like he wasn’t injured and grabbing him by the shirt collar. “We’re talking about my child, here.”

“That girl isn’t your concern at the moment.” Dark growled, reaching out and tugging at Mark’s shirt in return..

“Isn’t my concern?” Mark demanded.

“What you’re viewing right now is an anomaly. You’re getting a glimpse into a universe that you cannot act on nor control.” The demon explained. “That girl is not yet your daughter. She will not be your daughter for another eight years.”

Mark stared at him, mouth slightly agape. He slowly released his hold on Dark, and Dark eventually released him as well. “So what I’m looking at… what I was looking at the first time I came here… I was seeing the future?” Mark asked.

“A potential future. You might not understand it now, but your first foray into our realm knocked our world off its axis.” Dark explained. “I have now watched your family pass through Tartarus’ gates over and over again for nearly a hundred thousand years.” 

“You mean like a… a time loop?” Mark looked to him, stunned. “How? Why?” He asked. “What does any of this have to do with Jenn? How do I stop this? How can I protect her?” He demanded.

“There’s nothing you can do now.” Dark dismissed his question. “Your choices, and your daughter’s choices are set, and there’s not much I can do to sway you, or her.” He said. “As I said, that girl will not be your concern for eight years. Take that time to especially examine how you raise the girl.” He said. “Sometimes in life there are things you cannot control, and all you can do is prepare to respond to them.”

Mark didn’t like hearing that, but it was a concept he was familiar with. “Then why bring me here?” Mark asked.

Dark raised a hand to his mouth, dragging his thumb across his bottom lip, giving Mark a look that resembled amusement. “Did you forget that you were drowning?” He asked.

“Oh.” Mark said, and yeah, seeing Jenn’s older counterpart did kind of throw him. He’d completely forgotten about that. “I don’t know what to do for that.” 

“I suppose I could always return us to that lake.” Dark replied, glancing up to the smoke filled sky, as though said lake were located somewhere above them. And maybe it was, for all Mark knew. They did call this place the underworld, right?” 

“Wouldn’t that be a bad idea? Mark asked.

“Exceptionally.” Dark replied.

“Well what can I do?” Mark asked, frustrated. “I’m fighting a war on four fronts. Milo’s going to be out for blood, Virgil is going to flip when he thinks I’ve drowned, and I don’t want his family to get hurt, even though his dad is a prick. And Damien…” Mark paused. “I have no idea what the fuck Damien is doing.” He finally admitted.

“The wizard is absurdly private.” Dark agreed. “And what side do you stand on?” He asked. 

Mark glanced askance. “I don’t know.” He said truthfully. “All I know is I want Jenn back. I want to see my daughter.”

“Finally, a clear goal coming from you.” Damien said, looking too pleased for Mark’s comfort.

Mark tipped his head to the side, examining Dark like he’d taken on a completely different form. “Wait, why do you look like you’re going to eat me?” He asked. “Why do I get the feeling I just made a deal I didn’t want to make?”

“Oh you definitely want to agree to this one.” Dark said, holding his hand out. “Give me control for three days.” He told Mark.

Mark blinked, staring at that outstretched hand and taking a nervous step away. “Three days?” He asked. “For what?”

“This is not a traditional contract, Mark, there is no fine print for you to parse through, no place to sign your name. The only thing I require from you is a yes… or a no.”

“How can I agree to anything when I have no idea what I’m signing myself up for?” Mark demanded, taking another step back.

“You told me, yourself, what you wanted.” Dark reminded him.

Jenn.

Mark slapped a hand over his mouth. Yeah, yeah he had told him what he wanted, hadn’t he? He wanted to see his little girl. He was aching to see her. It had been so long. He didn’t want to drown in a frozen over lake, he wanted to see her again. Hold her again. To comb her hair out and braid it, and to read her a story before bed. To watch her grow from a child into the woman she would one day be. He wanted to keep her from whatever landed her in the Underworld, fighting to save at least one of her parents. It was the uncomfortable knowledge that Mark had always held onto. When he was with Jenn, the first time he’d met her, she’d only mentioned having one dad. He just wasn’t sure which dad made it with her that far. (He was pretty sure it was him.)

He’d have given damn near anything to see her again.

And Mark realized then what exactly the stakes were. 

He could either die adrift, abandoning his little girl to her dark fate… or allow Dark his three days.

Dark watched him debate all of this new information. “If it helps, I won’t kick you entirely from your consciousness. You’ll still have a say in things.”

“How comforting.” He knew he had no choice. 

“Okay.” Mark said faintly, before clearing his throat, trying to sound more authoritative than he felt. “Yeah, I’ll do it. But you promise.” He said, jabbing a finger in the man’s chest. “You promise this will take me to Jenn.”

“C’mon Mark, just give me your damn hand so we can go back.”

“I wanna hear you promise.” Mark required, glaring at the other man.

Dark sighed. “The Demon Code prevents me from declining a challenge such as this.” 

Mark stared at him for a good moment before finally, carefully sliding his hand into the other man’s. Something about the simple gesture felt terribly final, like he’d signed his name to some kind of pact. Like he didn’t need to physically sign his name to anything.

Suddenly the demon drew him near, and wrapped an arm about his waist to keep him close. Sensing they were about to leave this realm Mark was quick to hold onto the other man in return.

“Is that a real thing? The demon code?” Mark asked, because he didn’t think he’d ever heard Damien talk about any such thing.

“Mark I was quoting Tenacious D, of course it’s not real.” 

“...Oh.”

~~

Damien was trying very pointedly not to stare at Nic and Carly after Nic woke up. It was hard not to do. They were chatting to each other in very low tones, just quiet enough that the sounds of the road covered up anything they were saying, even though Damien was sitting right beside him. It was infuriating. That was his girl. 

His girl!

He thought? 

Then he heard Carly giggle. Even Griever, who was sitting happily in the front seat with Virgil, glanced back at Carly for that one, before giving Damien a look like ‘ _really?’_

This was torture. He hated that he had to be nice to this guy because he was recovering, but he was clearly _hitting on his girl_.

Damien kicked the driver’s seat.

Virgil, who had long since grown accustomed to his master’s immaturity during long road trips let out a sigh. “Use your words, Damien.”

“I want to try the radio again.”

“The last ten times we tried there was static.” Virgil reminded, as though he were speaking to a child. “Just hang on, we’re definitely almost there.”

“Turn it on anyway, I’d rather listen to static than deafening silence.” Damien tried. Anything was better than listening to Carly and Nic get all cozy with each other. 

Virgil shot him a glare in the rear-view mirror, and Damien heaved another whining sigh.

“We could try to play something off of my phone again.” Nic offered. A moan of complaint rose from everyone in the car, and even Carly visibly winced. 

“Jesus Nic, no.” She told the man. “No one wants to listen to your twangy country music.”

“Your music is dangerous, Nic, it almost put our vampire chauffeur to sleep. And he’s a fucking vampire. They live for late nights.” Damien explained disbelievingly. “He almost put us in a ditch.”

Unable to agree, they allowed the silence to take over once more, and every time Damien heard Carly snicker over something Nic cute said, he would kick Virgil’s seat again.

Everyone was quiet as they approached the address in question. It was very much off the grid, turning them off of a utility road and onto a treacherous dirt path leading them more and more into a heavily forested area. Virgil even had to step outside to clear a couple of fallen branches at one point. Then the gps took them to an area they weren’t so sure actually was a road. Virgil ended up backing out and letting the gps find them a new route. Nic was as helpful as he could be, with his severe concussion (which wasn’t much, with all of his blood settling in his dick for the purposes of flirting, Damien could only assume,) and the wizard had no head for these new-fangled machines either.

It wasn’t much longer until they came upon an area where the woods thinned out slightly, and between the trees there appeared to hang an unnatural mist. Virgil pulled the vehicle to the side of the road here and they all stepped out of the car. Right away, Damien noticed how off the area was. Where they had been fighting past barely visible roads with dense piles of snow, there was nothing of the sort there. Just mud, and the remains of decaying leaves and branches knocked down from the last storm. 

Something else that was weird though.

The air felt warm, bordering on sweltering, really, resembling the thickness of the air before a terrible summer storm.

Damien realized that what they were looking at wasn’t fog hanging in the air.

It was steam. Whatever was happening here was melting the snow and making the air warm and uncomfortable, feeling like a hot summer in Georgia rather than a cold, heavily snowed in Michigan day. Griever whimpered in unease as they tried to get close to the source of the intense heat, but the attempt was fruitless. It was only more overpowering, the closer they got. Damien, who had lived for some time and had unfortunate experience with this sort of thing, could liken the heat to that of a soon to erupt volcanic lake. The four of them were quickly forced to return to the car and try to continue on.

They didn’t spend much more time behind the wheel, as they were nearly involved in another accident.

Virgil was trying to maneuver the car through an area where the shrubbery was so dense it nearly covered the road, so he was having to move a bit more slowly. They still hadn’t found this address they were supposed to arrive at, or even seen another living soul in, well, what felt like hours. Damien was ready to complain about that too, but whatever biting remark was about to come out of him was cut off, when suddenly, crashing through the trees, a truck driving backwards so fast that Virgil had to slam on the brakes, accidentally pitching the entire crew forward. Virgil cursed loudly, which was a shock, because it was so rare to hear Virgil get that angry. 

The truck in front of them eventually came to a stop too, and the occupants of both cars flooded from their cabins.

Only for Virgil to stop dead in his tracks.

That was when Damien noticed the old man. Despite his obvious age he moved like a force of nature, not saying a word as he did. Virgil barely had enough time to utter the word ‘dad?’ when he was suddenly lunging for him, a sharp blade aimed right for Virgil’s vulnerable heart. Damien honestly wasn’t sure how he made it in time with how he was dragging from his knock down, all out brawl with Kasmilos earlier, but somehow, Damien was able to reach the boy, take his arm and drag him away in time for his father’s blade to meet the gemstone topper of his cane, and shatter it. Onyx pieces of the former skull fell to the ground, glittering shards scattering amongst the dirt and melted snow in sharp glittering contrast.

Carly shrieked as she came around, quickly tugging Virgil into a protective hug. Nic, to his credit, was able to join her despite his weakened state, and even Griever came around, taking up a defensive position in front of their little group and delivering a fearsome growl. At least he could depend on the wolf when Damien himself wasn’t feeling well. 

A blonde man eventually joined them, frantically taking the old man’s arm and tugging him away from their little ragtag group. “Dad, it’s not worth it.” the man tried to reason with Virgil’s old man. 

“Give it up already.” Nic said, his voice gruff with the effort of being present right then. “Leave Virgil alone, Isaiah.”

“Shut. The Hell. Up.” Isaiah finally spoke up. “All of you.” he snapped, and his tone brought everything to a halt. He jerked his arm out of the man’s (Damien figured this was Virgil’s brother, and thus knew his name to be Morgan’s,) arm. He jabbed a finger at Virgil. “That is… was my son.” he announced, and the effect of the change in tense had a noticeable effect on Virgil, who suddenly looked aghast.. “You think I want to do this?” he asked them. “You think I want to see my youngest son dead?” he asked them. “No.” he harshly rejected the idea. 

“I should make you pay for this.” Damien muttered to himself, as he dropped his now worthless cane. “This was a gift from Hecate, you foolish…” He paused, when he realized he’d gone off topic here, and quickly brought himself back on course. “Why the hell are you trying to kill him?” Damien asked the obvious question. “Virgil’s the most chill vampire I’ve ever met. I haven’t seen him nip even one throat all evening, and when he had the excuse to lose his cool…” Damien said, thinking of the boy finding Nic, covered in blood, and fighting his instincts to seek out more. “He didn’t.” Damien finished. “That would have been a lot for a seasoned vampire, and Virgil seems to have it under control. Why not just let bygones be bygones?” Damien asked, throwing up his shoulders in a shrug. “If he isn’t hurting anyone, just leave him be.” 

“Don’t think you can stand there and tell me what to do with my own son!” Isaiah demanded, directing his ire towards Damien now. “I’m his father. I know what’s best for him.”   
  


Damien scoffed at that. “You know what’s best.” he said. And this was probably very much not his place, but like always, here he was getting involved anyways. It just seemed like something that happened when you were taking care of Virgil. “Oh, _Daddy_ knows best. That’s rich, coming from you. You barely communicate with the kid, for _years_ , then all of a sudden you turn up when you think what’s ‘best’ for him is to kill him! Some father you are.” Damien openly mocked Isaiah now. “I’m more of a father to that kid, than you’ve ever been!”

Isaiah started at him for a moment, and Damien wondered if the man had ever been so thoroughly challenged.

“You’re an outsider. You don’t know anything. I raised him…”

“And he turned into an upstanding citizen despite you.” Damien cut him off with a sneer. 

“You think I want my child cursed to this fate?” Isaiah asked. “This is an act of mercy. What kind of life is it, being forced to live on the essences of others?” He asked. “A parasite, only able to do harm.” 

“Why do you get to be the judge of that?” Carly asked him then. “Who’s to say Virgil’s not enjoying his after-life as a vegetarian vampire?” 

  
Isaiah scoffed. “There’s no such thing.” He shook his head. “This is all senseless denial. If I had a dime for every time I met a vampire who insisted they had this under control. Well they never do. Something always happens. Something always pushes them over the edge. Then after they’ve destroyed countless lives they act so surprised. Mark my words. The only good vampire is a dead vampire.” 

“That’s not true.” Carly said, turning her attention to where Virgil stood. The boy had gone surprisingly stoic. It was like he’d spent years arguing with the man, years of trying to negotiate, and had already come to the conclusion that it was all worthless. Maybe it was. Maybe Virgil had the right idea, and Damien needed to save his energy for other battles. Still, he didn’t believe that Virgil would actually want to see his family hurt, no matter what they did to him, so Damien still tried. 

“Virgil’s living a very full after-life.” Damien said. “Despite his disposition. He’s got a house. A supply of blood that doesn’t involve him murdering anyone, and his own personal love-slave. I know some flesh and blood humans who aren’t even that well put together.” 

“He has a home with his friends, and he’s fallen in love.” Carly side-eyed Damien as she corrected him. Yeah, maybe love-slave wasn’t the politically correct term there, but Damien was too tired to be anything but crass.

“Love?” Isaiah scoffed. “You mean that boy?” He asked, snorting derisively. “The demon-possessed boy, Mark?” he asked, and out of the corner of his eye, Damien saw Virgil stiffen. 

“I mean, yeah, but Mark was doing an okay job of dealing with it.” Damien said, wondering if Isaiah had a thing about inner demons, too. 

“You say that a lot, which tells me the opposite is true.” Isaiah said, shaking his head at Damien. “Mark exorcised himself about an hour ago.” Isaiah replied, and that got an immediate reaction out of Virgil.

“What do you mean?” Virgil bristled, rounding suddenly on the man who raised him. Now he was anything but stoic. He was alive and bristling, all sharp fangs and bloody rage. “What have you done with Mark?” 

“I have literally done nothing with him.” Isaiah said.

Morgan shot his father a warning look. “Dad, come on, don’t be a dick about this.”

“ _Where the fuck is Mark, Morgan?_ ” Virgil demanded, now turning on his brother.

Morgan, his brother, looked startled by how violently angry Virgil seemed to become. Damien couldn’t help the thought that it was like no one in this family knew or understood anything about Virgil, how he could be so gentle and yet, so passionate, especially when it came to a loved one. Especially, he thought to himself, when it came to Mark. “He fell in the lake.” Morgan softly informed them. “We looked around but we couldn’t find him.” He said. He shifted, obviously uncomfortable, as he looked to his brother. A stunned silence fell over the group. Morgan’s face fell, bowing his head in empathy. “The lake turned boiling hot after.” he said. “I’m sorry Virg. Even if he survived being in the lake for so long… I don’t think he could have taken the heat.”

Carly gasped softly beside him. And Virgil… he stumbled backwards in shock. “You’re lying to me.” 

Damien didn’t think Morgan was lying. He was certain that Virgil didn’t believe it either. After all, the only one of them with a link to Mark had mentioned a mere few hours before that Mark had left this world. There was sadly only one way that could happen, without magical assistance. Damien’s shoulders slumped softly, and he reached to touch Virgil’s shoulder.

Virgil slapped that comforting hand away.  
  


“I’m sorry.” Morgan tried, seeing the fragile state this news had left his brother in.

The look on Virgil’s face was positively stricken. He took one step back, and then another. “You’re _fucking_ lying!” The young vampire screamed. Finally, he could take it no more. He slipped from Carly’s grasp and raced back towards the lake, obviously intent on fighting the super-heated air and finding Mark for himself. Damien didn’t have the heart to try and stop him. If it had been Carly, no one could have stopped _him_ either.

“He’s better off.” Isaiah shrugged.

“Better off?” Damien demanded. “If he’s dead, how on earth is he better off? What kind of heartless psychopath are you?” he asked. He shook his head, realizing he knew the answer to that. “Never mind. I know exactly what kind.” 

“I am a hunter. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t take this job because it was easy.” Isaiah said. “I do this, _we_ do this because we have to. It’s necessary. Do you know how many people die, or disappear, every year because of those creatures? If it wasn’t for us, there would be so many more.” he said, indicating himself and his son now. 

“Maybe.” Damien said with a shrug. It was difficult carrying on the conversation with this information. The idea that Mark was gone was the cherry on top of the shit-sundae his day was turning out to be. He was gutted to hear of his passing. Destroyed. “But maybe not. You’re treating a broad swath of people like they aren’t individuals. With their own thoughts and feelings. Like they’re all savage monsters.” 

“They are.” Isaiah insisted. Damien waved him off.

“You don’t know that. And really, if Virgil can learn discernment, who’s to say the others can’t, as well?” he asked. 

“Even if they could.” Isaiah replied. “The risk isn’t worth it. When a human makes a mistake, when it comes to their food, they go hungry. It only hurts themselves. If a vampire makes a mistake, many can die. And it takes is one mistake.” Isaiah fumed. “I’ve seen it happen. Time and again. It’s not worth the risk of keeping them alive.”

Suddenly, Nic, who’d been quiet and dazed for most of this conversation, suddenly burst to life. “You’re only saying that because if Damien’s right and a single other vampire can learn to control their instincts, then it makes the fact that you killed your wife pointless. You killed Adelia for _nothing_.” Nic stressed angrily. 

Damien was so stunned by the outburst that he could hardly believe it. There was _so_ much to unpack from that statement, and he didn’t really get the chance to. 

Isaiah gave Nic a look so dark that he was certain that if he’d had the power, Nic would have been blasted until he was no more than a bloody smear on the ground. Instead, he turned to his remaining son. “There’s no point in waiting here, Morgan.”

“No, dad. I need to wait for Virgil.” 

“Unless you’re waiting to end him, there is no point.” Isaiah snapped at him sharply. 

“Funny.” Damien pointed out. “Funny how when my friend here calls out your bullshit, you suddenly have better things to do.”

“I’m warning you.” Isaiah darkly spoke to the wizard. “You ‘re walking on thin ice right now.”

“How apropos.” Damien said, now rounding on the other man. He held the broken remains of the cane in his hand, calling up what little power remained in it. “That you should bring up thin ice, considering that we have, just now, lost a very good friend, _apparently_ , in an _icy lake_.” He said. “Guilty conscience, old man? Freudian slip? How did he get in the lake.” Damien glared at the other man. “You killed him, didn’t you? You killed him like you killed your wife.” he said. 

“I have nothing to say to you. You’re nothing to me.” Isaiah dismissed him, which caused Damien to bristle sharply. 

“I am Damien Wolfe.” The man called out, a fire in his blue eyes. “Where Merlin was myth, I’m the reality. I’ve seen the coming and going of ages. I have seen the pits of Hell and returned to tell of them.” He said, the earth quaking with his anger. 

Isaiah glared at him, unmoved by the display of the wizard’s power, and wow. Damien realized that Virgil’s dad was going to be a tough nut to crack. Most humans were at least somewhat impressed when he did his thing. Then, as he watched, the old man tipped his grey head to the side, as though now examining Damien curiously. It was a complete shift in tone, and for whatever reason, it pissed the wizard right the hell off. 

“Why so quiet old man? Are you scared? You’ve probably never lived to see such power unrestrained.” Damien brought up his broken cane, and despite his utter exhaustion, prepared to cast another spell. Maybe living out the rest of his days as a frog would teach him to be more respectful of his-

Before he could finish the thought, an unyielding force crashed into Damien like a brick wall, toppling him over and into the mud.

Behind him, he heard Carly scream, and Nic shout his name. Somewhere close by, he thought he could hear Griever’s panicked whimper.

Oh. That’s what the old man had been staring at. 

Damien struggled for a moment in the dirt, turning just in time to see Kasmilos emerging from the forest, human again, and his clothes from the desert replaced with something more weather appropriate. 

“All-powerful wizard, huh?” Isaiah said, tone laden with judgement. 

Now was an absolutely terrible time to pass out, but it seemed as though Damien had little choice in the matter. 

~~

_Near Oatman, June 1889_

Damien came awake with a gasp, inhaling water accidentally and suddenly heaving into a coughing fit. 

“I said I was awake you dumb bastard!” Damien sneered, kicking out at the god. Kasmilos was less than impressed with him.

He glanced up in time to notice Kasmilos crouched down beside him, tossing aside a newly empty metal canteen in order to take his revolver in hand, and shooting him a hard look. “Wake up faster.” He hissed at the man. 

“I will fucking wake up when I…” Damien heard, and then felt, the reverberations of a bullet striking the stone he was leaning up against. That woke him up. 

Because that meant they were still in that fucking cave, with Cersa chained to a back wall, the colonel they’d been hunting firing at them, and his federales taking up positions to fire on them.

“Kaz I thought we had an understanding.” Damien hissed at him, as he fumbled for his own gun. He’d been using so much of his magic lately that it was basically a given that he was going to have to take a nap at some point, and his body probably wouldn’t clue him in with a warning beforehand. So he would cast the protection spells, and all Kasmilos was expected to do was finish off the people trying to kill them. This should not have been hard, even for a water god out of his element. 

“Right.” Kaz replied, as he ducked down beside him by the stone. “Well that’s the funny thing about your theory. They’ve since doused the lights.” 

“You absolute infant.” Damien replied, as he took up his weapon. Though his preference was to simply use his magic, there were times like this when he knew it wasn’t advisable. He peeked up just a moment, just long enough to get a grasp on what exactly the problem was and figured it out pretty quickly. The men, partially hiding behind pillars of carved out stone, had turned off their lanterns. Kaz was shooting in the dark. Damien considered their unfortunate position, ducking back down just in time to avoid a bullet to the brain. 

“There’s a solution to this.” Damien said, placing his gun back in his holster. This time, he held out his hand for his cane, and it quickly appeared. He twirled it once, twice, and it took on the form of a falcata. “You and Cersa and I are all covered by a protection spell.” He reminded the man.

“Ah.” Kasmilos realized, as he too went for his dagger. 

“So we do this the old fashioned way.” Damien replied with a grin. 

He really shouldn’t be getting as much joy out of this as he did, slashing and hacking at the throats of corrupt federales, but the truth of it was, he was damned long ago. His fate had been sealed at the tender age of fifteen, when he signed those infernal documents, locked his soul away with a droplet of his precious blood. Vengeance was a subject he had become well-versed in. He knew what he was getting himself into. So why not take a rare moment and enjoy the pleasure of exercising one’s skills? In this day and age of iron and gunpowder, it wasn’t like he got to play at sword-fighting all that often. 

Though he was exhausted from maintaining his spellwork over the three of them, the adrenaline of running towards these men not well versed in hand to hand combat, of knocking them back with a blow to the sternum, of catching them by the shirt collar and jamming that wicked black against their skull, the excitement could have woken him from death.

Before long it was just him and Kaz still standing, along with Cersa, the colonel standing before them with his gun pressed to the goddess’ temple. 

But the man’s gaze wasn’t focused on either Damien or Kas. Indeed, Damien wasn’t sure if the man had even noticed that they were closing in on him, and that the last of his defenses had already fallen. His hand was shaking, as he looked to her, tears streaming down his face to disappear in his salt and pepper beard. He didn’t even look away from her as Damien and Kaz crept closer, nearly in arm’s reach. 

“I gave away everything for you.” The man was telling her, the gun shaking so hard that he couldn’t keep it focused on the woman. “I had a wife. A business. I lost everything in the war and rebuilt it from nothing. I threw it all away to be with you and when it wasn’t enough I gave all I had left to the devil.” He whispered. “Did you feel nothing for me? Ever?” 

It seemed as though the man had realized the extent of his role in the game Damien and Cersa were playing. Normally, when this scene played out, it was a lot more fun for the two of them, cashing in as the lost soul was taken away, but this had come close to a much more disastrous result. Cersa licked her lips, but not once did she waver. Hell, she didn’t even look nervous. It was possible she knew of the spell that Damien had cast, but he didn’t think that was it. She had always had nerves of steel, if not the sense to go with them. Cersa leaned in to his space, close enough that the man let his weapon drop to rest against his own chest. She closed in, with only her bound hands between her and colonel. She looked him over as though sizing up a particularly tasty desert. She leaned up close to him, pressing a sweet kiss to his bearded lips, and finally spoke. “Well frankly, my dear… you really should have thought about that before cheating on your wife.”

Kas didn’t give him a chance to answer. He moved then, jamming his dagger into the man’s back, giving Cersa room to fall away. His gun clattered uselessly to the floor.

And that seemed to be it. 

Damien cut Cersa’s bonds and the three of them left the cave together. 

Outside the sun seemed searingly hot and blinding, even though it was setting in the west. Damien held a hand over his eyes, wishing he had found his hat to protect his vision before stalking off on this mission to save Cersa. Before the three of them could get too far away from the scene, the enchantress directed him to a rock that leveled out to about waist-height. She reached into a hidden pocket in her chemise and pulled out a stack of twenty dollar goldbacks. Damien raised an eyebrow at her, and she smirked back. 

“Did he even notice you grabbing that?” Damien asked, as he moved to collect his share. Cersa shook her head gleefully. 

“I can tell you where he stashed the rest, too.” She said proudly, as she separated the money into equal piles. Kasmilos, standing nearby, rolled his eyes in an obnoxious, holier than thou fashion. It got to Damien, that kind of attitude. It wasn’t like how he and Cersa earned their wages was so beneath his stature, when he was pulling the same kind of shit in his white-collar circles. Okay, it wasn’t as overt as what he and Cersa were pulling, but defrauding a person was still theft in the eyes of ye olde gods. Well, where did Kaz get off judging them?

“You sure you don’t want a cut?” Damien asked drily. “I mean we probably would still be tussed up without you.” 

Kasmilos shook his head. “I have my own fortunes.” He told them. 

“Oh right.” Damien said. “You and your old money.” He said. “Don’t you have a wedding to pay for?” he asked. Kaz stilled abruptly. Damien noted the sudden change in his demeanor, but he was in the process of shooting his mouth off, which interestingly enough, he always managed to do faster than he could think. He turned to the other man, sticking one of the bills he’d received in Kas’ vest pocket. “Consider it charity.” 

He slid the rest of his money, into his own waist pocket, feeling oddly out of sorts. Ever since Kas had shown up, he’d felt like something was off. Something was different between them. It was like the man had grown colder. He wasn’t as fun as he used to be. And Damien could have rolled with that under normal circumstances. What he just couldn’t figure out was why...

But before he could examine the thought for two long, Damien felt Kasmilo’s hand on his shoulder.

He heard Cersa scream before he even felt the crack against the side of his skull. Damien pitched forward, tumbling down a rocky embankment and rolling down the hill, bringing with him an avalanche of discarded silver filings and arsenic waste rock. _It was just so kind of the miners to just throw that wherever_ , Damien thought to himself, as he pitched over and over, catching dust in his lungs and eyes, getting torn and cut all over, until he finally reached a relatively level area and skidded to a stop.

While he lay there, dazed, he watched as Kasmilos slid down the hill after him, with Cersa trailing behind him, taking her steps a lot more carefully than her outraged brother. She had to, Damien ridiculously supposed, in those damned ladies boots, which weren’t appropriate at all in this rocky terrain.

“The fuck did I…” Was all Damien managed to stammer out when suddenly Kas had his gun leveled at the center of his forehead. 

Cersa screamed again, begging her brother for an end to the violence, but she was so far away. She’d never make it before Kas blew his head off. 

But Kasmilos didn’t do anything. He stared quietly down at Damien, chest heaving with how hard he was panting. Damien stared back up, confused and betrayed. Kas’ hand holding the weapon began to shake. Damien slowly raised his hands in surrender. There wasn’t much else he could do. It might not have killed him, sure, but that didn’t mean he wanted to walk around with a bullet hole in his head either. 

Silence hung between the two men, for what felt like forever.

Then, Kasmilos whipped his arm around with a loud, anguished scream, and sent six slugs slamming into the side of the rockwall canyon. Damien hissed, uselessly covering his head, as a few of those bullets bounced off of the rock with a ringing clang and zipped around in the empty space between the three of them.Then Kaz tossed the emptied gun to the side and levelled an enraged look back down at Damien. “She’s dead!” He screamed down at the confused wizard.

Damien blinked up at him. “What?” 

“She’s dead you miserable asshole.” Kasmilos screamed again.

Damien shifted backwards, scrabbling against loose rock to try and get up, only for Kasmilos to drive his boot into Damien’s side and send him spinning, again, further down the hill. 

“Kas, stop!” Cersa begged, as she finally caught up to them. It wasn’t until Cersa had her brother’s arm firmly in her grasp that Kasmilos finally stopped trying to attack him. 

Damien was shaking and weak from the attack. He was pretty sure that last lunging kick had broken a rib or two. It was nothing the like worst he’d ever been through, but it didn’t feel good, either. He placed a supportive hand against where he assumed the break was, and looked up to the other man, mouth open in shock and wheezing heavily.

“Kasmilos.” he said, between whistling breaths. “I didn’t know.” he said, struggling greatly to take in the air he needed. 

Kasmilos yanked his arm out of Cersa’s and began to walk away, from the both of them, muttering something under his breath. 

Seeing that, for the most part, the fit seemed to be over, Cersa came over to check on Damien. “Are you okay?” She whispered, as she moved to, very gingerly, tug him to an upright position. It shifted his ribs painfully, and Damien wheezed as much needed air was forced from his aching lungs. Realizing that her initial plan for treating him was not going to work, Cersa glanced around. “Hold on.” 

Cersa straightened up, tugging at the strings of her skirt, and stepped out of it, leaving her in her petticoat, and rolled it up to stick it under Damien’s head. Once he was a little more comfortable, the position helping fluid to drain into his stomach and not his already taxed lungs, she began to gently set him back to order.

“If it helps.” Cersa said, as the two of them watched Kasmilos pace, vehemently upset, not too far from where they were held up. “If it helps, I didn’t know either.”   
  


“I’d have been kinder if I did.” Damien promised her. “I was tired and irritated, and I thought he was just… being his usual gloomy self. How come he didn’t tell me?”   
  


Cersa just shook her head. “He keeps his pain close to his heart.” She said to Damien. “It’s very rare that someone gets to him like that. I guess you were just the unlucky one here to receive his wrath today.” 

~~

It was then that Damien understood. 

Not just back then, but now, in the present, why he kept thinking back to this incident. Why he kept having flashbacks and dreams. Because Kasmilos was nothing if not consistent.

And once Kasmilos learnt of Mark’s fate, they would all be in danger.

~~

“Hate to interrupt your nap, but shit is about to go down.” 

Damien hissed a little at the voice in his head, trying, probably vastly immaturely, to bat it away, whatever it was. He came up short when he recognized Carly’s voice. “If you push me away again I’m breaking up with you.” She threatened.

Damien put his hands up in surrender. He was beyond tired. Exhausted in the kind of way that only several days worth of sleep would fix. He didn’t think he could squeeze any more magic or energy out of himself if he tried, not without incredibly dire consequences, that was. Even still, he managed to get his aching, sore body into a seated position, with some help from Carly and Virgil, who must have recently returned from his search, because he seemed all too mournfully quiet right then. 

When he managed to get his eyes open, he thought he understood what Carly was talking about. The three groups were involved in the kind of stand off that needed a choir playing the title song from a western movie filmed inexplicably in Italy. With Kasmilos and his sister standing on one side, Virgil’s family on the other, and himself, Carly, Nic and Virgil as the unfortunate third vertice of this fucked up triangle. And it indeed seemed like shit was about to go down. Damien leaned back a bit, looking to Virgil. “And how did your visit to the lake, go?” he whispered.

Virgil shook his head, and showed him his arms and hands. They were a bright red, obviously the beginning of first degree burns showing there, cutting off at a line like Virgil had gone so far as to plunge them heedlessly into the lake. And that was an interesting thing, Damien thought to himself. He knew that vampires could burn, obviously. But it looked so familiar to the injuries on a living person, that he could have easily still mistaken the man for a human. Virgil looked pained, though, and Damien suspected that it had nothing to do with those injuries. 

“I couldn’t even get close.” he told his mentor sorrowfully. 

Damien tried not to think of what that meant for Mark. 

Kasmilos spoke up. “I’m just here for my husband.” he said. “Whatever you are a part of with this degenerate.” he said, pointing in Virgil’s direction. “I don’t care.” 

Damien winced a little. So while he’d been out, no one had bothered to fill Kasmilos in. Which meant that the worst was yet to come from the god. But leave it to Virgil’s stupid, stupid father to callously fill him in.

“Dead.” the old man intoned cruelly.

Kasmilos face fell.

Suddenly, Damien realized exactly why he’d been having those dreams. They weren’t dreams, after all. They were memories. Memories of the last time Kasmilos lost a spouse. The dramatic outpouring of grief. How he’d damn well nearly killed Damien for accidentally stepping on the grisly story.

Put that god through that again, and Damien knew they wouldn’t survive the aftermath. (Or more accurately, he would. But these more fragile beings than he, would not.)

Damien shakily tried to push Carly back. “I need you to run.” he told her.

Carly whipped around to face him, stunned. “What do you-” 

“Run.” Damien said, watching as the forest began to divest itself of it’s unnatural stillness. There was a deep rumbling in the earth that Damien recognized as the rapid shifting of groundwater deep beneath them. A geyser coming to life, and the woman he loved standing directly over it. “Carly, go.” He begged, desperately.

Carly stared at him, as though she couldn’t possibly understand the request he was making of her, and shook her head. Dark curls bounced playfully over her shoulders, in stark contrast to the drama unfolding in front of them. “No, Damien.” She said, her tone trying to soothe _him_ , reaching out for his arm. “I’m not going without…” 

“Nic, get her out of here.” Damien said, becoming more desperate. Damien knew he couldn’t run, at least not for long, and he didn’t think he had the magic in him to pull off another teleportation act. He absolutely, one hundred percent did not trust the man, but he did at least believe that he would do his best to protect her. He fervently hoped that was the case.

Carly seemed further stunned by that, but Nic didn’t seem to need to be told twice. He grabbed Carly’s arm and began to drag her away, with her fighting the man with each new step.

Virgil, his ever loyal student, remained by his side. He gingerly helped Damien to his feet, so at the very least he could die standing.

“Is it going to be bad?” Virgil asked him, tone somber. Damien had the thought that Virgil already knew, and just didn’t have it in him to care. Still, he answered his bravest pupil with a nod. 

“And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.” He whispered grimly. Virgil helped to steady Damien when Kasmilos screamed, the tormented sound cutting through the air, silencing all life that hadn’t already been chased off by the steam. The earth around them began to tremble, and echoed his pain. 

Or, that was what Damien thought, at first.

Behind his back, where he knew the lake was fitfully churning, there came a light. A light that, as it washed over them with it’s blinding brightness, seemed to block out all sound. A few seconds after the light passed over the gathered men, there was an incredibly strong gust of wind reminding Damien of a nuclear blast. It pulled at him without upending him, and instead knocking his student flat into the ground. It threw itself against Virgil's family next, sending them sprawling into the mud. It then came for Kasmilos and Cersa, drawing a scream out of the woman that was completely engulfed by the deafening blast, as Kas desperately grabbed for his sister in an effort to protect her. It was futile, and too were completely bowled over. 

Leaving only Damien still standing. Confused, Damien raised an arm, attempting to shield himself from the blinding light as he turned to face down whatever new disaster was approaching them.

He squinted when he first took note of the shadow, trying to get a better look. It began as a smear against the horizon, moving slowly, until the shadow morphed into something resembling a human. With every new step, the thick layer of mud would sizzle, and the water would quickly evaporate. With each additional inch forward the trees and foliage that remained asleep for the harsh winter would shrivel and die. There was the accompanying scent of fire and brimstone as the creature approached, a scent that was terribly familiar to Damien. Finally, the man was close enough that he could make out some of his features. Damien’s jaw dropped in shock. 

He knew that man, but he didn’t, all the same. There was something off, in the way he held himself, in the crookedness of his smile. The way the inner corner of his eyelids seemed to twitch. He had the obscene grin of a man unhinged. Damien took a cautious step forward, racing out for the man’s arm.

“Mark?” He asked the creature carefully.

The creature heaved, spitting out a vile black substance onto the ground. Damien jerked back not to get hit with it, not simply because it was gross (which it was,) but because it seemed acidic. It hissed and churned upon the ground. 

Finally, the creature raised up it’s head, and sickly yellow eyes locked with his. The creature gave him a crooked grin, and a voice that sounded like one man if he had been cracked in half, answered him darkly, a phrase beknownst only to itself and to its host.

“ _Oasis_ …”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't laugh.
> 
> I struggled for SO LONG to come up with something bad ass for demon!Dark to say and my brain would only keep coming up with Oasis, no matter how hard I spanked it. So I finally just gave it its way.
> 
> You know long pauses between chapters is the norm now when it takes this long. I'm sorry guys. I promise I didn't forget about it. And this story has maybe one more chapter before it's finished too! How exciting! :3 Of course there will be a few more sequels to this one. I REFUSE to leave this one unfinished. Pray for me peeps.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr dedicated to my inspiration to this series, you can find it [here](https://wickedwitchwc.tumblr.com).


End file.
